


A House United

by shesasurvivor (starkist)



Series: A House United [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Civil War, Alternate Universe - Historical, Civil War, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2017-11-16 08:35:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 81,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkist/pseuds/shesasurvivor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow up to Blue on Grey. Katniss Everdeen has done the unspeakable with Union soldier Peeta Mellark. Now she's agreed to marry him. But first, they must make it through a proper courtship while surviving the trials of the Reconstruction Era South. Historical AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

 

 

I awaken in the early morning to the sound of something crackling. Opening my eyes, I can just make out Peeta's silhouette bent over the fireplace in his room as he fuels it with more kindling. It's dark still, and the faint glow of the flames is the only source of light. When he's finished, Peeta makes his way over to the bed, and slips as gently and quietly beside me as he can. It's not until he's huddled next to me that he even sees I've been watching him.

"Didn't mean to wake you," he says.

I shake my head and smile at him. "It's all right."

"It's still snowing outside. I checked," he tells me, his voice hushed, though I don't know why. It's just us in the house tonight.

I do know why he's telling me this, though. He thinks I'm concerned about my mother and sister being able to return home after attending to Annie and the birth of her child. But even I'm surprised by how little I'm worried over them. He made the point yesterday that they would stay there, warm and safe, until it was clear enough for them to make the trek home, and he was right. So there's no point in dwelling on it, for now at least.

Besides, it's so peaceful here with Peeta, underneath the quilt on his bed, the fire now roaring. I can feel his own heat radiating off his body, and I nuzzle myself up next to him, pressing as close to him as humanly possible. I feel so warm and safe myself that I'd rather just dwell on this for now. "It's okay," I tell him, "it'll stop eventually. Let it snow."

He grins, and his blue eyes sparkle with the reflection of the fire. He reaches over and pulls me on him, and I immediately move to rest my head on his chest, sighing at the feeling of his steady arms wrapping around me. I feel him kiss me on the top of my head.

"It is nice like this, isn't it?" he asks me, and I nod as I listen to the sound of his heart beating, quiet and strong. I feel him bring an arm up and lazily begin running it through my hair.

"I'll make us biscuits for breakfast," he tells me. "How does that sound?"

"Sounds good," I say, "but don't feel you have to hurry."

He laughs at this, quietly, gently and continues to caress my hair. "Wouldn't dream of it," he murmurs. I nod, and, feeling more content than I have in a long time, feel myself slip into a tranquil sleep.

When I wake again some time later, the soft light of morning is pouring in. Judging by the angle, I'd say it's somewhere around eight 'o' clock. I can also see through the window that the snow has finally stopped falling. Peeta is still asleep beneath me, both of us still wrapped around each other. I don't want to disturb him, and really, I'm perfectly happy just to lay there and feel his breathing, so I leave him. Eventually, though, he begins to stir. As his eyes flutter open, his face lights up as he looks down at me and smiles. "Morning," he says.

"Morning," I smile back at him. "How'd you sleep?"

"Oh, I slept wonderfully. Couldn't have been better," he tells me with a grin. "Must have been the beautiful lady, who agreed to marry me last night, sleeping beside me. What?" he asks as he sees the frown that's now crossed my face.

I break from his grip to sit up. "I'm not much of a lady."

"Why do you say that?"

I'm not sure how he can even ask. For starters, there's the fact that I'm in bed with him, not a stitch of clothing on. Maybe we're technically engaged now, but we weren't when we started this whole thing. "Isn't it obvious?" I ask, unable to look at him.

I can feel the bed shift as he sits up behind me. He wraps his arms around me and buries his nose into my neck, kissing it softly. "All right," he admits, "maybe we broke a few taboos last night. It was worth it, though."

"Was it?" I ask. "Will it still be worth it if anyone finds out and we're publicly disgraced?"

"Who's going to tell?" he counters. "I'm not. Are you?"

I'm silent a moment before I shake my head. "No..."

"Then what's to worry about? Even if we did conceive a child last night, we'll be married soon anyway," he pulls me closer to him and kisses me on my cheek. "Katniss," he says softly, "you're going to be my wife. I'll protect you-"

"I don't need protecting," I cut in.

"Don't I know it. But I'm going to do it anyway, in whatever way I can. And that includes protecting your darkest secret of the night you couldn't resist the suave charm of the devastatingly handsome soldier from up north. Who, it turns out, was the best thing to ever happen to you."

"When did this happen?"

Peeta laughs and gently pushes me back down to the bed, positioning himself on top of me so that he can give me a deep, lingering kiss. "I love you," he says as he moves to the crook of my neck and I press a kiss into his hair. His lips move downwards, teasing as they pass between my breasts without pause, before he stops just above my bellybutton and looks up at me, conflicted.

"What?" I ask.

"It's just torn between making bread and butter with you here, or making you those biscuits I promised earlier."

"Can't I have both?"

He smirks and raises an eyebrow. "Hungry, are we?"

I can feel myself blush, which seems odd considering the circumstance. Peeta chuckles at the sight of it as he glides back up over me. "We can do that," he says as he takes a breast into his mouth

"Maybe we should just get dressed," I say.

"Maybe," he mutters, but makes no move to stop. His lips are so hot against my skin, sucking on it a little as he works, causing me to shiver the further he drops.

"There's no telling when someone may be back."

"If they find us, they find us."

"You're not thinking straight," I tell him, though in truth I'm not doing so well myself.

"Mmmph." He's not even paying attention anymore. And I quickly forget everything else when Peeta suddenly lifts me up, hooking my legs over his shoulders so that he has better access to me. I gasp and arch my back as soon as I feel his tongue slide inside of me, running up and down the walls as far as it can reach. He takes his time with every stroke he gives, greeting me with an extra long lick every time I buck my hips against him.

Eventually, he withdraws his tongue from inside me, and works it up to that place he found yesterday that gave me so much pleasure, watching my reactions intently. He replaces his tongue with his finger as he shifts himself back up so that he lays beside me, gently rolling me to my side so that I face him. I immediately reach out and hold onto him, my arm wrapped around his lower back. The action pulls me closer to him, and the feeling of our chests against each other is a pleasant one. I meet him in the kiss he leans in to give me, making it so our bodies are flush against each other, with only his arm between us separating us as he works me. I wrap a leg around one of his, which allows me to feel him, hard against me.

It occurs to me that Peeta has been doing everything up until now, giving me pleasure but never seeking out his own from me. So I reach over and take him in my hand. His eyes immediately flutter shut as he lets out a guttural groan and shudders under my touch. Encouraged by this, I begin running my hand up and down the length of it, watching with fascination as he reacts - labored breathing, his eyes only half open as they look almost helplessly at me, hands tangled in my hair. My hands begin to move faster, and this only seems to increase his reaction, causing him to throw his head back and let out a groan. Now it's my turn to move over him, planting teasing kisses across his chest, up his neck, on his jawline, running my free hand through his wheat colored curls.

I'm taken by surprise when he grips my hand, preventing me for working him any further. "No more," he tells me, though it's clear by the look on his face that he wants to continue. But instead he rolls me back over on my back, and, kissing me senseless, pushes into me, filling me up completely. It doesn't hurt like it did yesterday, and I feel my breath hitch in my throat at the sensation. Peeta begins moving in a slow rhythm, rocking gently but steadily against me as he pulls out, then pushes in again. My arms are around his neck as he continues kissing me, each one slow and deliberate and full of passion. Between them, he just looks me in the eyes as he moves in me. I almost feel shy as I gaze back up at him; he's looking so intently at me. I'm even surprised to realize how much noise I'm making, tiny moans and whimpers escaping my lips involuntarily. I'm just beginning to think I may be working towards that release he mentioned yesterday, when Peeta completely surprises me by flipping us over so that I'm now on top of him.

He's leaned himself a little against the wall in this position so that he's half sitting up. I look at him in confusion, but feel his hands slide up my sides and hold me. "Ride me, Katniss," he murmurs.

I know I must look more bewildered than ever, but his head nods down to where we're still connected, and understanding dawns on me. Only I'm not at all sure how to do this. I give him a pleading look, but he only chuckles at me.

"Try it," he says.

So I do. Working carefully, I move myself so that I raise myself off his manhood, then sink back down onto it. I let out a gasp out how deeply he touches inside of me in this position, and have to grab onto the sheet of the bed to steady myself. Peeta is grinning up at me with a knowing look; he raises a hand to stroke my hair out of my face.

After I've taken a moment to gather myself, I try it again, and this time Peeta ends up letting out a groan in unison with my own. I continue, relishing the sensation of him deep inside me, hitting every little spot just right. Faster and faster I go as I work up my courage, while Peeta holds me steady with one hand and begins rubbing on my clitoris with the other, which in turn only causes me to pick up speed. I'm panting now, and our combined moans and whimpers have grown so loud that we would surely be caught if anyone else were in the house with us.

At last, I can feel myself begin to tense. I bare down on him as I feel like I'm bursting, the sensation of myself clamping around him only adding to the shaking that has overcome my body. When at last I feel as if I've returned to earth, I look down, feeling somewhat embarrassed, at Peeta who is only grinning up at me in a daze.

I feel as though my entire body has gone limp as I lean against him for support, so he turns us back over so that he's on top of me again. "That was it," he whispers in my ear, smiling, and gives me a long kiss as he begins to move in me again. I can only stare up into his clear blue eyes at first, trying to steady my breath which turns into a foolish endeavor since it's only become heavy again from his movements inside of me. Eventually I find the strength again to move my arms, so I wrap them around his neck, holding him as close to me as I possibly can. Finally I can feel him reaching his release as well, and with a final kiss he pulls out of me as he lets go.

He settles beside me on the bed as both of us catch our breath; I feel him take my hand into his while we do so, holding it firmly, yet softly; he gives me what I think is meant to be a comforting squeeze. Finally, he turns on his side and pulls me to him, brushing loose strands of hair away from my face before he kisses me. "Did that feel better this time?" he asks, and I notice there's concern in his eyes.

"Yes," I tell him, as I tentatively reach my hand to stroke his face with the back of my hand, returning his gesture by brushing his own mussed curls out of his eyes.

We're silent for a while as we lay there, holding each other, feeling the way we curl together. Peeta presses kisses onto my forehead from time to time, and gently runs a hand up and down my back. It feels good, I won't lie, but all the while something is playing on my mind.

"This is it," I tell him at last. "We can't do this again. It has to be the last time until we're married."

Peeta just looks me in the eyes for a minute before he answers. "Sure," is all he says when he does.

I'm not sure if he understands the gravity of the situation. "I mean it, Peeta," I tell him firmly.

Peeta lets out a sigh. "I know, Katniss," he says in a sober tone. "I know. Let's just enjoy it now while we can, all right?" he asks as he wraps his arms around me tighter.

"Yes," I say, and allow myself to relax a little in his steady embrace. I understand why he feels this way, I really do - once Mama and Prim are home, he'll barely be allowed to touch me again, until we've finally been married. Not too long ago, I would have thought he was being ridiculous, but I understand it now. As wrong as all of this has been, I can't deny that Peeta's touch has had a transforming effect on me.

After a while, Peeta smiles at me. "Come on," he says as he sits up, tugging on my arm to encourage me up as well, "let's go get dressed."

"All right," I say, but as I'm about to slide my legs over the side of the bed, he pulls me back to him, holding me close so that our chests are pressed together, and kisses me. "I just had to feel that one last time," he tells me, smiling against my mouth. I smile back, and, wrapping my own arms around him, kiss him in return. He in turn gives me another kiss, longer this time. "Let's go," he says at last as he turns me loose.

It hits me how cold it is outside the bed. I guess the quilt and our activities were keeping us warmer than I had realized. Peeta is already half-way finished buttoning up a checkered flannel shirt when he notices the way I'm holding my arms around me to keep warm. "Take the blanket," he tells me, nodding down at the quilt.

I do, wrapping it around me, reveling in its warmth and the scent of Peeta on it. I make my way as quickly as I can to my bedroom. It's freezing in here, seeing as how the fire was never lit last night since I spent it with Peeta. I tuck the blanket around myself tighter as I close the door behind me, though I'm not really sure why I do since the only other person in the house right now has spent the last sixteen hours or so with me naked. I smile when I see he left the clothes he tore off of me yesterday neatly folded on the bed this morning.

I find the warmest chemise I can and pull it on, then do the same for a dress and stockings. It's certainly better, but it's still cold in here. I grab the quilt and make my way back to Peeta's room. It's much warmer in here, and as I smooth the quilt out back over his bed, taking care to tuck it in just so, I'm almost tempted just to stay here. But I can hear him working in the kitchen, most likely starting our breakfast. I know Peeta will have started a fire in there as well, so I go to join him.

The kitchen is indeed warm when I enter it. And there he is, just beginning to cut in lard to a bowl of ingredients. He says nothing to me as I enter, but lifts his eyes up to me and flashes a charming smile. I pull a chair over as close to the fireplace as possible, absorbing its warmth, and watch him work.

"How do you have the milk for this?" I ask him. I remember we were out the day before last, and Prim never had time to try and trade with anyone for it.

"Bought it yesterday morning, when I was out," he explains. I nod, and remember how I hadn't seen him at all yesterday morning. It makes sense that he had been out buying supplies, especially if he sensed snow was coming.

When he pulls the biscuits out, golden and lightly toasted, he drags another chair over to join me. He tears off a part of one and pops it in his mouth as he sits, then hands another chunk over. "Try it," he says. I let him feed it to me, and inadvertently let out a small sigh as it all but melts on my tongue.

"They're wonderful," I tell him.

He smiles, looking genuinely flattered. "I'm glad you like it," he says. Then he fixes me with a serious look. "So... how do we go about doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Set about this courting business."

I shrug. "The regular way, I guess."

He sits back in his chair, looking a little uncomfortable. "What?" I finally ask when he doesn't say anything.

"I don't really know how you do it here," he admits.

"You don't?" I ask. I'm genuinely surprised - what on earth could be so different about the courting practices in Nebraska that he would have to ask this.

"Well, I hear they're... different here," he says.

I raise an eyebrow at this, but go in to answer. "Well... first of all, you're probably going to have to move out of here." I can see disappointment flash across his face, but he just nods and waits for me to continue. "Second of all, engagements are normally taken very seriously down here. I don't know how folk will react when I break things off with Gale with things the way they are today, but in the past it would have caused one or both parties public disgrace."

"So what you're saying is... this may be risky."

"Oh, it was always going to be risky, Peeta. Just having a Southern girl take up with a Yankee at all will make some talk, or possibly worse."

"I thought we covered this."

I shake my head. "No. Just wait. The way they treat you now will be nothing compared to how they'll react when they find out you're courting me, and even that will be nothing compared to when they find out I've accepted your proposal."

"That's not very encouraging," he says.

I give him a sympathetic look. "Are you sure you still want to go through with this?" I ask, and as I do I realize how genuinely afraid I am he'll say no. But he smiles, and pulls me over to kiss my forehead.

"Of course I am."

I smile, too. "All right. Then to start, wait until I've broken things off with Gale. I would wait a while if I were you. Normally you could start right away, but, well..." I look at him, and he raises his brow in question. So I take a breath and continue.

"I'm afraid if word gets out we were stuck here alone overnight, folk might catch on as to what occurred between us. And then things would be really bad."

"So do I move out before or after this happens?"

I bite my lip as I think about this. "After. No, wait, before. But maybe wait a few days from now before you do. And we need to come up with a good excuse as to why you do."

"This sounds complicated," he says. "So when will I get to see you?"

"You'll be allowed to call on me as often as you like. But we won't be allowed to be alone. Although really, we never should have been alone in the first place. I don't think Mama thinks of you in terms of potential suitors."

"Because I'm a Yankee?" he asks.

I nod. "It's that. But also because..."

He waits to see if I'll continue. "Go on," he says when I don't.

"Because you're so kind, Peeta," I confess. "I don't think she thought you'd ever have it in you to... you know..."

"Seduce you?"

I nod, and feel my cheeks grow hot.

"I wasn't planning it," he blurts out. "You know that, right, Katniss? It just kind of... happened."

"I know, Peeta," I say.

"I would never do anything like that to you. And I would have stopped the minute you told me to."

"I know, Peeta," I repeat firmly, because surely he must know I wouldn't be instructing him on the proper way to ask my hand in marriage if I felt his actions yesterday were at all malicious.

"Sorry," he says, "I just wanted to make sure you knew that. Go on. We're not allowed to be alone anymore? Probably for the better," he grins at me.

"No," I say. "Normally one of the servants would be the one to sit in with us, but since they're all gone now, it will most likely be Prim. Possibly Mama."

"I hope it's Prim," Peeta mutters.

"Me too," I admit, since Prim would be a lot more understanding about this than Mama would. "If it is Prim, we can talk more frankly with each other. If it's Mama, though, then you need to fawn all over me like you're still trying to convince me to marry you. Maybe compliment Mama quite a bit, too. Eventually, you'll have to ask her permission to marry me."

"Right," he says, "that part is the same up north. When should I ask?"

"After about a month," I say. "And you'll have to ask me three times. I'm supposed to refuse you the first two."

"Why is that?" he asks, looking as if he's just bitten into a very sour piece of fruit.

I shrug. "It's the way it is around here. It's supposed to allow the girl to choose a better suitor if he comes along."

"Are you going to do that?"

I roll my eyes, and am just about to tell him no when it dawns on me - I already have. That's exactly what I'm about to do by breaking my engagement with Gale for Peeta. He must realize this at the same time, or at least see that I've realized it, because he reaches out and takes my hand in his.

"Engagements are taken seriously around here," I repeat in a small voice, because this fact is finally beginning to sink in with me. "They're considered almost as important as the marriage itself. We... we have our work cut out for us, Peeta."

I feel him squeeze my hand gently, but as he takes a deep breath to speak, I can see the pain in his eyes. "Do you want to call it off?" he asks in a serious voice, now offering me the same choice I just offered him. "I promise I'll understand if you do."

I take my time in answering him, looking him over carefully. Yes, his arms are comforting and his mouth makes me feel in ways I never before knew it was possible to feel. But I don't think those things were what made me agree to be his wife. I also don't think it's guilt for being physical with him. It's more than that. I don't know what it is, but I'm drawn to him. Maybe I've even been drawn to him from the very beginning.

"No," I tell him at last. He smiles, and I feel his grip on my hand strengthen. This gives me the resolve I need to go on. "So after I finally accept your proposal, we'll be expected to hold a very long engagement. You can finally kiss me then, but only in the most chaste of ways. The wedding itself is supposed to be a big party, only... I don't know how much of a party we'll be able to throw with things the way they are these days."

"I don't mind," he says.

"Neither do I," I admit, because even before the war, the lavishness of wedding parties always felt a smitten too much to me. "But Mama will, and so will some of the others. She'll want to try to throw as big an affair for us as she can."

"Even with me as the bridegroom?"

"Yes. It's not about that. It's about the marriage itself, the fact that I've succeeded in becoming what I've been trained to become my whole life."

"So enthusiastic. You make it sound as though you don't want to do it," Peeta says.

"It's not that," I say, "but... I think Mama was afraid it would never happen at all. For me, at least. Everyone knows Prim will have no problem finding a husband."

Peeta looks as if he's trying to fight a smile. "And why would that be?"

"Because she's a lot better at behaving as a proper lady should than I am, that's why. She's obedient and demure and sweet. Everything a proper gentleman looks for in a wife," I tell him, then give him a look of my own. "Well... most men."

Fortunately, he laughs at this. "Don't worry," he says, "if you're not a proper lady, I'm not a proper gentleman. I'd say we're evenly matched now, wouldn't you?"

"I suppose," I say, giving him a faint smile.

"Okay," he says, "so, what if they come home tonight? How should I act?"

I think about this for a moment. "Normal, I guess. We can't act like anything's happened, obviously."

"Right. So, let me see if I have this all - I can't live here, with you, any longer. But after you've called off your engagement with Mr. Hawthorne, I can begin calling on you freely. And after a few weeks of this, I can ask for your hand in marriage officially."

"The first time," I remind him.

"The first time," he repeats. "Then two more times and we're in the clear."

"Yes, that's right."

Peeta nods, and breaks into an excited grin which I don't think he could help if he wanted to. The sight of it even makes me smile. I remember something he said earlier, though, and curiosity boils up in my mind

"What are the courting customs in Nebraska like?"

He gives a short laugh. "Not too different, but they're nowhere near as extensive," he tells me. Then he fixes me with a kind of a mischievous grin. "We do have this one custom, though... we call it bundling."

"Bundling?"

"Yes. Bundling. The man and the woman are each bundled in a blanket, and spend the night together in the same bed, talking, but no touching."

I give him a suspicious look. "You're making that up."

"I'm not!" he laughs. "It's supposed to allow the couple to get to know each other better before they're husband and wife." The mischievous grin on his face grows wider. "Think we can talk them into letting us do it?"

"Probably not," I say in complete seriousness. There's no way Mama would ever go for anything like that. "It sounds risky."

"It is," he admits. "More than one baby has been born sooner than it should have, if you know what I mean. It's not really a practice that's used much anymore these days because of it."

"I can imagine," I say, though there's a small part of me that takes comfort in knowing I'm not the only lady who would participate in such activities before a wedding. I think Peeta can tell this, too, because he takes my face in his hands and kisses me.

"It'll be okay," he tells me. "We'll follow your customs here, and I'm sure there won't be a problem."

"I hope so," I mutter as I rise from my seat and go over to take another biscuit. "I suppose there's nothing to do now but start on the day's chores."

"I'll help," he offers.

The urge to tell him I don't need help rises in me, but I force myself to ignore it, and agree. The day's chores don't take long to accomplish now, anyways - mainly, he helps me with the laundry. It turns out it's a good thing I let him help me, too, since Peeta ends up having to take the tub outside to fill with snow that we boil over the fire. "Maybe there will be time for a bath later," he tells me as he hoists the post onto the hearth.

"Probably only time for one, if there is."

"That's fine," he smirks at me, then laughs at the expression I give. "I'm joking, Katniss," he assures me, and walks over to pull me in for a kiss. "Do you blame me for wanting to savor every moment of this time together while I can, though?"

"No," I'm forced to admit, because even I don't want him to let go of his embrace with me.

Later in the day, he's helping me in the kitchen as I prepare supper - putting together a small pie from the meager supply of cans preserves we were able to get from the summer, while I put together the remains of the jerk game from the last time I was able to hunt, when my eyes spot something out the window. "Peeta," I say, and I can hear the urgency in my own voice.

"What is it?" he asks, sounding concerned, and walks over to stand beside me to look at what I see outside. "Is that..?"

I swallow and nod. Because it's my mother and Prim returning home at last, as safe as Peeta assured me they would be. And with them is Gale, giving them a ride as they sit bundled in his sleigh. Something I had not figured into my expectations, though I should have. But I don't think Peeta had thought of this possibility, either, because I can see the apprehension on his face when I look over to him. I should be running to the door, flinging myself the rest of the distance across the snow to greet them. Instead, in the short time we have left, I slip my hand into his, feel him grasp onto it firmly as he entwines his fingers with mine. I return the squeeze, because what is about to happen, I want him to know that I've chosen him.

We hold on to each other until we absolutely must let go. Then, taking a deep breath to steady myself, I move to go greet my family.


	2. Chapter 2

I trudge through the fine powder layering the earth in its thin, white blanket. The returning group is not much further ahead of me as they glide easily over the snow in the sturdy sleigh drawn by Gale’s horses.   
  
“Katniss!” I hear Prim call out in glee, and with a smile plastered across her face, she raises herself up to wave at me from where she sits bundled next to my mother.   
  
Bundled. The memory of my conversation with Peeta earlier causes me to drop my eyes to the ground, and I keep them there the rest of the way, acting as though I’m concentrating hard on not falling in the snow as I make my way to them. I’m forced to look up, however, when after they’re only a few feet away from me, Prim leaps from the sleigh and straight into my arms for a welcomed hug.  
  
“We’re back!” she says, her voice excited. “I hope we didn’t worry you. We were at Finnick’s and Annie’s by the time the snow even started falling.” So Peeta was right. “They put us up for the night, and Gale came for us in the morning. Wasn’t that kind of him?”  
  
“Yes,” I say and dare to look over at him as he gives me a small smile. “Very kind.”  
  
“Oh, Katniss!” Prim continues babbling on, “I was so worried about you while we were gone! How is your head doing? You weren’t too worried, were you?”  
  
“It’s doing much better,” I assure her, then try to pick out my next words carefully. “I... I was a little worried. Mr. Mellark assured me you’d be safe at the Odair’s, though,” I tell her in what I’m hoping against hope is a casual tone. But even this allowance makes me worry that I’ve revealed too much.  
  
“Oh,” Prim says thoughtfully, “that was nice of him. Did he look after you, then?” Maybe it’s just my nerves running away with me, but I could swear she asks this last question in a lower voice, as though she doesn’t want anyone else to hear.  
  
I feel my whole body growing hot as I fight to remain as nonchalant as possible. I feel the corners of my mouth twitch ever so slightly, but I push the urge to smile away. “He did,” I say, and am grateful at how even my voice sounds. If I can keep this up, then maybe everything will be all right. For now, at least.  
  
But Prim looks at me for too long, as though she’s trying to figure something out. “Good,” she says slowly after a minute. I’m grateful when she’s cut short because Gale has helped Mama out of the sleigh herself by this time, and they’ve made their way over to join us.  
  
“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Gale asks darkly, apparently having picked up on at least part of our conversation.  
  
“Of course not,” I say maybe a little too crossly, but Gale only nods.  
  
“Good,” he says. “Let’s go inside. It’s too cold out here.”  
  
We agree, and our small group moves to make its way inside, me nervously taking the rear. I’m worried over every little thing, fretting that some overlooked little detail will give us away. I’m racking my brain trying to remember the course of events, starting from our first kiss yesterday up until preparing supper this afternoon. I think we covered everything, but I’m so afraid there’s something I forgot. My only hope is that Peeta would have found anything while I was distracting them outside, and cleaned it up.  
  
When we get inside, he’s sitting on a chair in the parlor, head drooped studiously over his sketchbook. He looks up as we enter and smiles politely; though I try to make eye contact with him, he won’t meet mine. This annoys me at first, but then I realize it’s for the better. Because everything would be given away in an instant if we shared a glance now. Immediately I begin to feel myself relax a little as I start to realize I’m not alone in this. Peeta was right when he said that he would protect me in any way he can.  
  
He rises to his feet in polite greeting. “Glad you made it back safely,” he tells them. “We were worried.”  
  
“We?” Gale echoes, narrowing his eyes at Peeta, who holds his gaze steadily before answering.  
  
“Miss Everdeen was,” he shrugs. “I told her you’d be fine.”  
  
“That’s what she said, too,” Prim says, and I can’t help cringing. I can only feel the tension in the room thicken between Peeta and Gale. But Peeta does a wonderful job in deflecting it.  
  
“Did she?” he asks with a completely neutral face, as though it couldn’t mean less to him if he tried.  He’s wonderful at this.  
  
“That was very kind of you, Mr. Mellark,” Mama says in her most gracious tone, the one that has always set her apart as the pinnacle of everything a proper lady should be. “Thank you for looking after my daughter in my absence. I hope she didn’t give you too much grief.”  
  
Mama’s comment offends me a little, but I let it go. Peeta’s blue eyes drift over to me at last, and as they lock on to my own grey ones, I can tell that he’s trying to fight a smile. “No grief at all, Ma’am.”  
  
“Good,” she says, and then she tilts her nose into the air, sniffing. “Is that supper cooking?” she asks. Three sets of eyes look, questioning, in my direction, and I’m forced out of my nervous stupor.   
  
“Yes,” I say, stepping forward. “I- uh, we made it. Mr. Mellark and I. He, uh, helped,” I stammer, cursing at myself internally. Unlike Peeta’s smooth navigation with words, I fall all over them. I know they’re going to be wondering what in tarnation has gotten into with me, but right now they just look over at Peeta in surprise.  
  
“It’s true,” he confesses, flashing an embarrassed smile, “I baked something.”  
  
“My goodness, Mr. Mellark,” Mama says. “That was awfully kind of you!” She has her attention turned entirely on Peeta, as does Gale, but I notice Prim is looking over at me. I make a point of avoiding eye contact with her.  
  
“Let’s eat,” I say, needing, desperately, for this awkward conversation to end. The others accede and the group moves to the dining room. I once again take up the rear, because I can feel all three of them - Prim, Gale, and Peeta - watching me for very different reasons, and it’s about all I can take of it right now. If I look at Prim or Gale, they’ll know something is up, and if either one of them catches me looking at Peeta, they’ll only confirm it.  
  
But supper proves to be another feat altogether. At the table, I’m naturally placed at a spot next to Gale. And I can sense that, for how well he’s been able to keep calm throughout this, Peeta is more than a little bothered by it. Because as we make conversation while we dine, with Prim and Mama telling us about the Odair’s new son they helped to bring in this world, I catch him frowning over at us more than once. And it’s a weird feeling, being stuck here, next to Gale, when I’ve already shared so much of myself with Peeta. I don’t like this any more than he does. I shoot him a sympathetic look when our eyes catch once, apologizing as well as I can; his expression softens as he offers me a small smile in return.  
  
After we finish off the main course - which doesn’t take long, since I haven’t been able to hunt in several days - I move to bring the pie from the kitchen.  
  
“I can bring it in,” Peeta says as he begins to stand up.  
  
One look from Gale, and I can see that it’s not a good idea. I shoot Peeta a warning look as carefully as I can, and he slowly sits back down.  
  
“I can bring it,” I tell him.  
  
I retrieve the pie, and bring it back in. As I deposit it on the table, Mama looks me over, concern slowly growing on her features. “Katniss, dear, are you okay? You’re walking oddly.”  
  
I stop, furrowing my brow as I look at her. At first I’m not sure what she means. But I become aware of a dull ache in my core, and slowly I realize that losing my maidenhead has made me sore. Apparently it’s showing up in my walk.  
  
“I’m fine, Mama,” I mutter.   
  
“Are you sure? First your head, now this. How did this happen?”  
  
I bite my lip, completely at a loss on this one. Fortunately, Peeta is there to save me again.  
  
“She tried to lift the laundry tub on her own,” he tells them. “I caught her before she got too far. She must have hurt her back before I could get to her, though.” It’s almost unnerving how easy it is for him to cover for me like this, but I’m grateful all the same.  
  
“Sounds like her,” Gale says as he takes a bite of cauliflower, and despite everything he actually looks a little amused. Mama, on the other hand, frowns.  
  
“You must be more careful, Katniss. On top of hurting yourself, it’s very unbecoming for a lady to be doing those things.”  
  
I stifle the laugh that’s threatening to escape me. I abandoned any pretenses of being a lady yesterday, but Mama would lose it if she knew how and why of this. So instead, I nod politely in concedement. “Yes, Mama,” I say.  
  
As I settle back down in my chair, she looks as if she wants to say more; instead, she merely shakes her head and pushes forward. “Katniss,” Mama says, “Mr. Hawthorne and I were discussing your marriage on our way back.”  
  
I freeze, using every ounce of self-control I have to not look at Peeta. Instead, I force my eyes over to her. “Were you?” I ask in the most matter-of-fact voice I can muster. “And what did you discuss?”  
  
“When to have it, mostly,” she says. “We were thinking maybe the beginning of March. That should be plenty of time to get you fitted for a dress, and I’m sure we’ll be able to dig up some sort of payment for a party, even if it is a small one.”  
  
The beginning of March is only a little over a month away. I press my lips together, feeling my stomach twisting into knots, and dare to sneak a glance over at Peeta. He’s looking down, concentrating hard on his pie in front of him, and ignoring me completely. “March sounds... fine,” I say in a stilted voice.  
  
“Wonderful,” Mama says. “I still have my wedding dress. We can get you fitted for it so you can wear it. We’ll come up with the money somehow, I’m sure. Maybe...” she pauses, looking thoughtfully over at Peeta. “Mr. Mellark... is there a possibility we might start selling some of your game?”  
  
My eyes go wide as Peeta’s head shoots up in surprise. He looks at Mama first, then looks nervously over at me. The others are looking at me as well, so I only give him a small smile in return. His eyes return to Mama, and, swallowing, he nods. “I’m sure I could, Ma’am,” he tells her.  
  
Mama’s face lights up. “Thank you so much, Mr. Mellark!   
  
“You’re welcome, Ma’am,” he mumbles, and I see him quickly glance over at me again before he drops his eyes to his plate once more, trailing his fork across the pie without ever really eating it.  
  
Gale hangs around for a short while after the meal, attentively inquiring about little things around the house. I can sense the tension, though, and more than once I catch him shooting daggers in Peeta’s direction. Peeta acts as though he doesn’t see it - maybe he doesn’t - but I feel as though I’m going to burn a hole through the floor I’m standing on, I’m so nervous.  
  
When he finally moves to leave, I follow him outside. If I’m going to break things off with him, then now is likely my best and only chance. Bundled up as warmly as I can, I tuck the shawl tighter around me as I head out into the bitter cold. I can barely hold back the smile threatening to break across my face as the action reminds me of the blanket I wrapped around myself this morning.  
  
As Gale harnesses up his horse to his sleigh, I see him look at me several times. Finally, he clears his throat. “Did Mr. Mellark... behave honorably with you last night?”  
  
I can feel my cheeks grow hot as I frown at him. “What?”  
  
Based on his expression, I can tell that I’m blushing, and kick myself inwardly. “I’m sorry, Katniss,” he says, “that isn’t a question very becoming of a lady.”  
  
“No,” I agree, frowning as I look off to the side. Then I steady myself, and force myself to meet his eyes again. “P- Mr. Mellark behaved... perfectly last night.” There. Not really untrue, but still should clear Peeta of any suspicion. Gale just looks at me for a moment, studying me, like he’s trying to decide if he can believe me.  
  
“You can tell me if he didn’t, Katniss,” he says at last. “If he lay one finger on you, I promise, I’ll bring my rifle over here so fast-”  
  
“He didn’t hurt me, Gale!” And my head is swimming, because I know now is when I should be starting this conversation with him, but... but the way he’s threatening Peeta like this has me worried. Still, I know I must forward with it if I want to get out of this arrangement.  
  
“Gale, I-” I begin, but Gale is giving me such a piercing look that I lose all my gumption. He raises an eyebrow at me.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“I- I just don’t think he would hurt me.” I feel like a coward for backing down.  
  
Gale’s frown deepens. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking you can trust them, Katniss. They’re Yankees, after all.”  
  
“I realize that,” I say, feeling irritated. I don’t need to be reminded of this fact again, when I’m already so aware of it.  
  
“Just be careful, Katniss,” he says as he leans in to kiss me on my cheek. “They’re not like us. I don’t want one of them to hurt you,” he continues as he climbs into his sleigh. “I’m going to be by more often so I can keep an eye on you... and him.”  
  
My mouth opens to attempt for a second time the conversation I know I have to have with him. But nothing comes out. Everything in me is screaming to start speaking with him, but all I seem to be capable of is silence. “All right,” is all I manage in the end.  
  
Gale nods. “Goodnight, Katniss,” he says as he urges the horse to move forward. I watch as he drives it down the lane and out of sight before I finally head back inside.   
  
The house is quiet when I enter it. I decide to check on Mama and Prim before I face Peeta, because I need to make sure we won’t be interrupted, and it’s been such a long day for them, and all right, maybe I’m putting off delivering the news to him that I didn’t break things off with Gale yet. But when I creep up the stairs to their bedrooms, making sure to go as quietly as possible, I discover that both my mother and sister have already fallen asleep.   
  
Sighing, I decide it’s probably best if I face him sooner rather than later. I creep back downstairs to where his room is, and can see the faint glow of candlelight coming from the crack under his door. Taking a deep breath, I knock quietly.  
  
“Katniss,” he smiles at me, then, glancing around the hallways, ushers me inside and closes the door squarely behind us. He turns back to me, raising an eyebrow expectantly. “Well?”  
  
“Well, what?” I say, trying to put off this conversation as long as possible.  
  
He shifts and I can tell he’s trying to reign in his apprehension. “Did you speak with Mr. Hawthorne?”  
  
“Yes,” I say, and move to sit down on the chair next to the door. “He asked me about you.”  
  
“Really?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “What did he want to know?”  
  
“He wanted to know if you had... done anything to me while we were alone.”  
  
Peeta’s mouth twists up into a slight, lop-sided smirk. “And what did you tell him?”  
  
“That you behaved perfectly.” I deliver it with a straight face, but I can’t help returning the grin Peeta gives me.  
  
“Perfectly, huh?” he asks. “That’s good to know.” I can feel the blush return to my cheeks, but it seems nonsensical to hide it from him at this point. Then Peeta’s demeanor grows more serious. “Did you talk to him?” he asks at last.  
  
I take a deep breath, bracing myself, and look away. Finally, I shake my head.  
  
Peeta grows quiet, and I can sense that he’s trying to reign in his frustration. “Why not?” he asks.  
  
“I tried to,” I start, “but...”  
  
“But what, Katniss?”  
  
I let out a shaky sigh, and decide to just tell him. “But he was saying awful things about you, Peeta! Like what he would do if he ever found out you had laid a finger on me. I just... I couldn’t. I didn’t want him to hurt you,” and finally I meet his blue eyes, pleading with them to understand.   
  
He’s quiet again as he mulls over what I said in his mind. “I... understand,” he tells me at last.  
  
“You do?”  
  
He nods, but seems a little shaky himself. “I can see why you’d want to... time it correctly.”  
  
“Yes,” I agree, nodding my head.  
  
“But you’re going to tell him eventually, right?” he finally blurts out, and I can’t help giving a small laugh.  
  
“Yes, Peeta.”  
  
Peeta studies my expression, maybe to determine if he thinks I’m being truthful with him or not, then nods. “All right. Good,” he smiles at me, and I can feel the anxiety that was weighing down on me begin to melt away. I rise to my feet; cross over to him, and he pulls me in for a long kiss.   
  
“I should get to bed,” I admit when we’ve broken apart, his forehead is resting gently against mine.  
  
“I have a bed right here,” he murmurs, smiling playfully.  
  
“We can’t, Peeta. Especially not with Mama and Prim in the house.”  
  
“Just for a little bit,” he says as he leans in for another kiss, wrapping his arms around me and holding me tightly against him. I’m a little breathless when we break apart for the second time, and I’m just on the brink of agreeing despite my better judgement, when he loosens his grip on me.   
  
“Go on,” he says, “I don’t want to put us at risk any more than you do. Especially not with Mr. Hawthorne on the prowl,” he flashes me another one of those playful grins.   
  
“Fine,” I agree. Peeta gives me one last kiss, and we linger in our embrace for a few moments.   
  
“Goodnight,” he says when we finally pull apart, and plants another kiss on my forehead as I slip out the door.  
  
“Goodnight,” I whisper back before sneaking up to my own room.

  
  
  
  
I awaken early the next morning, and for just a moment I linger in my bed, remembering how the day before I had woken wrapped around Peeta. I’m surprised to find how much I already miss it, even though it only happened once. Finally, I force myself out of bed, and dress in the dying light of the fireplace before I head downstairs.  
  
To say I’m surprised when I find he’s made it to the kitchen before me would be an understatement. “What are you doing?” I ask him. He’s not facing me, but at the sound of my voice he spins around and his face lights up with a smile.  
  
“Making breakfast,” he says as he crossed over to give me a kiss, “I’m heading out to see about getting my quarters reassigned.”  
  
“Oh,” I say, and look away. I didn’t think he would go about doing this so soon.  
  
“It will probably take a few days before the order goes through,” he continues, “but it’s better that I start it sooner than later.”  
  
“You don’t think they’re going to move you too far away, do you?” I ask, realizing for the first time that, even though this was my idea, I really don’t want him to go.   
  
“I don’t know,” he says. “I hope not. I can try to get out of it if it’s looking like they’re going to.”  
  
I nod, but say nothing. I can tell he can see how apprehensive I’m feeling over this, and he reaches out to gently tug me into his arms. “It’s going to be fine,” he assures me in a soft voice. “Even if they do, I can still take time to visit you. And we can write every day.”  
  
I’m not sure how writing will work out, since surely Mama and the others will notice me receiving letters from him, and I don’t think I can explain that without giving the game away. But I say nothing, and let him comfort me.   
  
“I made more biscuits,” he says after a moment, letting me go and turning back to the oven. “You and your mother and sister can eat them for breakfast after I’ve gone.”  
  
“How long will you be out?”  
  
He shrugs. “Not the whole day. All of the morning, probably part of the afternoon. Will you hunt today?”  
  
“I don’t know,” I say, “how is it out there?”  
  
“Not too bad. I think it warmed over night. The snow should be gone by the time you would be heading out.”  
  
I nod. “Yes, I’ll probably hunt then.”  
  
“Then I’ll meet you, like we always do,” he smiles. “Wait for me.”  
  
“I will,” I say, and shyly return his smile. He pulls me to him again, and as he crushes his lips against mine, I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer to me. His own embrace tightens around me, and we cling to each other, lost in our kiss. It’s the sound of someone descending the staircase in the hallway that finally breaks us apart. Peeta drops his arms and moves a safe distance away from me just in time, as Prim pushes the door open into the kitchen. She stops short at the sight of us; glances back and forth between us with an unreadable expression.   
  
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” I could swear I hear the slightest emphasis on interrupt, and the corners of her mouth are slightly upturned  
  
Peeta says nothing, and goes back to preparing the biscuits. “You didn’t,” I say to Prim, “Mr. Mellark is just fixing to leave soon.”  
  
The corners of her mouth turn downward. “At this hour? Where is he going?”  
  
“None of your business, Prim,” I scold her, but Peeta just laughs.   
  
“Just some Yankee business,” he says as he turns and grins at her. “You probably don’t want to hear about it.”  
  
She smiles back and him, and crosses over to settle on the hearth. “Will you be gone long?”  
  
“Should be back by the end of the day,” he says as he mixes the batter. “I’m leaving you with a present, too.”  
  
“The end of the day,” she repeats his words thoughtfully. “Good,” and she throws me a sideways glance and there’s no mistaking the grin on her face now. “You’ll be missed.”  
  
My eyes widen as I glare at her. Peeta, on the other hand, manages not to flinch in the least, and remains steady as he works the bowl in his arms. “That’s very kind of you to say, Miss Everdeen.”  
  
“Of course, Mr. Mellark,” she says as she picks herself up off the hearth. “Have a safe trip,” she says, and with another glance at me, dismisses herself to do goodness knows what.  
  
Peeta finishes the biscuits, then, after taking a couple for himself, bundles up to prepare to leave. Prim has yet to make a reappearance, so I escort him out to say goodbye. “Be careful,” I tell him once we’re outside on the porch. Since we have no horses of our own, he is going to have to make the journey on foot.  
  
He smiles down at me. “Are you worried about me, Miss Everdeen?”  
  
I can’t help the grin I give him in return. “I suppose I am, a little.”  
  
He leans in and gives me a kiss. “I’ll be careful. I promise,” he assures me. “I love you.”  
  
I nod, and give him another kiss. Then he sets out, treading steadily across the remaining snow. I watch him until he disappears out of sight on the other side of the fields, then I turn around and head back inside. Prim has reemerged, eating one of the biscuits in the kitchen. She looks at me expectantly when I enter, but we hear the stairs creaking and know Mama has woken, too.  
  
She’s thrilled when she says the biscuits that Peeta made for us, and goes on a little about how thoughtful he can be, for a Yankee. And I can’t deny that this eases me up some - maybe Mama won’t be so upset with the notion of me marrying him as I initially thought she would.   
  
Later, Prim and I are dusting the parlor when I catch her watching me carefully on more than one occasion. She has that look on her face again, like she’s thinking carefully about something. I feel my stomach twist, and pretend I don’t notice her. I think I know what’s on her mind, and it’s too early for me to speak of it with anyone else yet.  
  
But that doesn’t prevent her from trying.  
  
She comes up beside me while I’m dusting the side table. At first she says nothing, and acts as though she’s merely working on the other end. But eventually I hear her clear her voice.   
  
“So how was your night here last night?” she asks.  
  
I don’t look at her; I keep my eyes trained on my work in front of me. “It was fine,” I tell her, sounding completely unconcerned.  
  
“Did Mr. Mellark look after you?”  
  
I nod, forcing myself to stay focused. “He did.”   
  
“Did you have a nice time getting to know each other better?”  
  
I stop the rag I’m using to dust mid-stroke. I know she can’t possibly mean it the way it sounds, but it’s so much more accurate than she realizes that I can’t help being a little thrown off. My eyes briefly flit to the sofa where the other night’s activities took place before I catch myself and force them back on the table in front of me. There’s no way I can look her in the eyes now, and I can only hope she didn’t pick up on my blunder.  
  
Swallowing, I give her another nod. “I did,” I say, and curse myself when I feel the corners of my mouth begin to edge up of their own accord.  
  
I can feel her gaze piercing into me, and she stays quiet for a moment. It’s agonizing, trying to decipher what’s going through her head right now, if she’s read into my reaction enough to know that something happened last night, though I pray she’s not able to guess that things went as far as they did. I don’t think Prim could ever think of me the same again if she found out exactly what happened between Peeta and me.  
  
Finally, I can’t take it any longer and dare to glance over at her. She’s smiling at me. “What?” I ask, and I don’t care how defensive I sound.  
  
“I saw you watching him a lot at supper last night,” she says. “And him watching you, too.”  
  
I say nothing.  
  
“What are you going to tell Gale?”  
  
“I don’t know!” I blurt out, then check myself. “I mean, nothing. There’s nothing to tell. Get back to work, little duck.”  
  
I know she’s not convinced, but she leaves me be and goes back to her work anyway. She doesn’t bring the subject up again, either, thankfully, but I do catch her grinning at me every once in awhile. I feel bad, not telling her the truth, but until we’re ready to break the news to everybody, I don’t want anyone else to know.  
  
When we’re finished with the dusting, I check outside and find that the snow has mostly melted. Peeta was right about it warming up. I silently say a prayer of thanks, since not only does this mean I’ll be able to hunt, but that his trip home should be safer as well. I feed an excuse to Mama and Prim, then slip into my father’s old hunting jacket, grab the bow and quiver from their hiding spot, and disappear into the woods.  
  
Despite the incident from last time, it’s a relief to be back out here. The woods have become a sort of haven for me in the time I’ve spent in it, learning how to tune in with it; understanding its tricks. The woods have become our savior, and a place of refuge for me. I spend the remainder of the afternoon hunting, foraging, and checking on the various traps I’ve slowly been teaching myself over the past few months. When the sun begins to drop off below the tree line, I know it’s time to meet Peeta. Throwing my spoils into my game bag, I start the journey back to where the forest and fields meet.  
  
It would be impossible to describe the sense of relief that washes over me at the sight of his figure making its way across to meet me. I hadn’t realized I was as apprehensive about his journey as I was, but now he’s here, safe, with me. Grinning, I rush forward to greet him.  
  
Peeta opens his arms as we draw closer, and when we finally meet I walk straight into them. He holds me tight and kisses me unabashedly, pulling me so close to him that he practically crushes the game bag between us.  
  
“How was your trip?” I ask when he finally lets me go.  
  
“Fine,” he says, but he’s looking off in the distance, unable to meet my eyes. Something’s wrong.  
“Did you get your request to be reassigned put in?”  
  
Peeta shakes his head, looking like he’s about a thousand miles away from here in his mind.  
  
“Why not?” I ask. He doesn’t answer me, so I sigh, and bite the bullet.  
  
“What’s the matter, Peeta?”  
  
Finally, he lets out a long sigh. “Katniss, they’re assigning more soldiers to your residence.”


	3. Chapter 3

A cold chill runs through me at Peeta’s words. I look at him, narrowing my eyes, studying his face, trying to decide whether I have understood him correctly. But the serious expression he wears tells me that I have.  
  
“What do you mean?” I ask him, measuring my words slowly.  
  
“I mean, they’re assigning more soldiers to your residence. It will no longer be just me. Two or three more soldiers should be arriving in the next few days.”  
  
It’s my turn to sigh as I slump my shoulders, the arm holding my bow falling limply at my side. “What ever for?”  
  
Peeta looks hesitant. “I’m not entirely sure,” he answers after a minute. “But it’s not just you. More soldiers will be occupying homes in the area on a whole.”  
  
I frown at this news. Up until now, only a few of us had been saddled with soldiers. The Undersees were currently handling a rather headstrong one, the man named Cato who arrived shortly before Peeta did. They have a daughter, my age, and I know there had been some concern over housing him under the same roof as her. I know that there is no interest on Madge’s behalf, however, if the stories she whispers to me as we travel to and from the neighborhood knitting circle are any indication. Apparently he is not a good man like we were fortunate to receive.  
  
Which leads me to precisely why I’m so disheartened over this news. I cannot take it for granted that any further soldiers we house will be like Peeta. And if he were to leave now...  
  
But wait. He said he never asked for the transfer.  
  
“So you won’t be leaving us because of these soldiers? Do you know them?”  
  
“No,” he admits. “That’s just the problem.”  
  
“I- I see.”  
  
Peeta brings a hand up to run through my hair, brushing it away from my eyes. He gently deposits a kiss on my forehead. “I don’t mean to concern you too much,” he explains. “But soldiers... they can be an unruly bunch. I can protect you if you have to house any muggins.”  
  
“Do you think we will?”  
  
“It’s hard to say,” he looks away in thought for a minute. “There really is no telling. I met as many good men as no accounts out there on the fields.”   
  
I have never had anybody be so blunt with me before about anything. Most of the men who have made it back in one piece continue to treat the women as though their very bodies would break if they heard such talk. As a result, they hush themselves when one of us approaches, and change their entire demeanors. I suppose there is no reason for Peeta to beat around the bush with me at this point, however. I have certainly skipped any pretenses of being fragile with him by this point.  
  
“So you’ll stay here with us?” I can’t deny the part of me that feels relieved he’ll continue to be here, with me, but this opens a whole new set of circumstances for us to navigate in order to begin a proper courtship. I look up at him, search his eyes. “What will we do, Peeta?”  
  
From the look on his face, I can tell that this is the question he had been asking himself his entire journey home. In response, he trails his hands down my arms so he can wrap my own in them, and brings them back up between us, his thumb lightly running itself up and down the backside of my hand.  
  
“I’ve been thinking about that,” he admits, confirming my observation. “We might just have to attempt to do it while living under the same roof. Maybe we can even speed it up a little if we do it that way.”  
  
“Are you in a hurry?”  
  
Peeta’s expression is unreadable. “No,” he says slowly, “but you seemed to be when you thought there was a chance that I... that you could be with child.”  
  
He is right about that. I’m still worried of that possibility, in fact. It would be better if we were able to marry sooner rather than later, if I am, because then it would look less suspicious. But there is still the matter of my current engagement to Gale to be addressed, and beyond that... beyond that, what would the community think if we sprung this on them so quickly?  
  
Peeta seems to sense my hesitation, because he lets my hands go, and encompasses me with his arms once more, holding me close to him. I lay my head against his chest; draw in a deep breath as the sound of his heartbeat steadies me. “It’ll be fine,” he says quietly. “Your mother has even seemed to take a liking to me. But I’ll admit, it’d be a lot easier on me if the meat I sell went towards my own wedding with you, and not yours with Mr. Hawthorne.”  
  
Despite everything, I let out a laugh. “I’m so sorry about that, Peeta.”  
  
“It’s all right,” he says. “She doesn’t know. Yet.”  
  
I nod, and he smiles down at me, leans down to give me another kiss. “We’ll figure something out. Let’s get these home,” he says as he pulls the game bag away from me and walks me back up to the house.  
  
  
  
The soldiers arrive three days later. One is a young man from Delaware, who is no older than Peeta. He goes by his last name of Marvel. Another is a large man, who goes by the name of Brutus. None of us are comfortable with his presence in particular, and Peeta subtly moves to stand protectively between us when he first introduces himself. I’m not sure how well Peeta would be able to handle him if he had to, but it makes me feel better all the same. I’m even more glad that he is still here with us.  
  
The last surprises me. He’s a negro man, who stands tall and strong, but is not very talkative. His name is Thresh, and I’m shocked that the Union would have the audacity to send someone like him here. I had heard rumors that they were allowing his kind to fight on their side in the war, but I had never seen confirmation of this until it was standing in my house before me now. I can only imagine why he’s here. What I can’t imagine is how the neighborhood will take to someone like him being in a position of authority above them.   
  
Supper that evening is a more lively event than it’s been in years. Brutus wastes no time in making it known he wishes to be seen as the dominant one of the pack, though he does seem to heed some respect to Peeta since he’s been here much longer. Afterwards, he drags the four soldiers out for a smoke of their pipes on the porch, claiming they had important things to discuss. As he claps Marvel on the back, letting out a boisterous laugh, I think I can imagine what kind of things they’ll be discussing. As I gather up the dirty dishes from our meal, Peeta shoots me a sympathetic look before following them reluctantly.   
  
For the next hour or so, I hear bellowing laughter ring out from the porch. Bits of their conversation drift in as well, but I only catch pieces of it; a word here and there, but nothing that tells me what the subject of conversation is. Perhaps Peeta will tell me later.  
  
When they finally come back in, reeking of tobacco, Brutus make a big to do about how beat he is after all he’s had to do today. Marvel admits he’s tired as well, and so Mama and Prim show them to their new bedrooms. This leaves only Thresh, Peeta and me. The former settle in the parlor while I finish the cleaning, and strike up a conversation.  
  
Thresh seems to open himself up more with just Peeta than he did the rest of the group. I wonder if doesn’t much care for them, either. Peeta can win anyone over with his charm, though. I’m living proof of that.   
  
“What brought you out here?” I hear Peeta ask. I wonder if he’s asking for the same reason I want to know. “You were in North Carolina with the 54th Regiment, weren’t you?” I don’t know what that is, but Peeta clearly does, if he’s asking about it, so I continue to listen.  
  
“My sister,” Thresh says in his low voice. “I came to find her.”  
  
“She was a slave?”  
  
I’m not facing them, so I can only presume Thresh confirms this news. “We were separated at a young age, and sent to different plantations. I always listened for word about her and our family every chance I could, though.”  
  
“How did you get to be a part of the 54th?” I hear Peeta ask.  
  
“I volunteered. I escaped on the underground railroad up to New York a few years before the war broke out. As soon as I heard about it, I joined.”  
  
“That was brave of you,” Peeta comments.  
  
“I promised, as soon as the war was over, if the Union won, I would find my sister as fast as I could and take her back to New York with me.”  
  
“And you think she’s here?”  
  
I’m still not facing them, so I don’t know what Thresh does in the moment of silence that follows. When he finally does speak, his voice has turned serious. “I know she was. I talked to some folk, and she was a servant in this house.”  
  
I drop the metal pitcher I’m holding, which drops to the floor with a loud thud. I glance over my shoulder and see I’ve gained the attention of both of them - Peeta is looking at me with concern, while Thresh is looking at me suspiciously. I smile at them and pick it up, then carefully reposition myself so that I can watch them while they talk.  
  
“Here?” Peeta repeats after a moment, encouraging Thresh to continue his story. I see the dark man nod. “That’s what the other freed men and women I’ve been able to talk to have told me. She worked as a house servant here.”  
  
I feel something unpleasant in the pit of my stomach. We had several house servants when this place was still operating, before the war ripped everything we had away from us.   
  
Peeta’s eyes meet mine from across the hallway. I can tell he already knows what I’m thinking. He looks back at Thresh, fixes him with a look of genuine curiosity. “What was her name?”  
  
“Rue,” he says, and then I see him follow Peeta’s gaze back in my direction, so I duck my head and try to pretend that I’ve been busy cleaning the dishes the entire time. Since I’m not looking at them, I don’t know how convincing I am - and I know Peeta knows I’ve been listening. The unpleasant feeling in the pit of my stomach grows, but I still won’t look up.  
  
I hear them continue the conversation, but their voices have dropped to almost a whisper now. I strain my ears to hear the rest of what they say, but it’s all in vain, because I can’t hear a word. It’s no matter, anyway. I know Peeta will tell me later, especially if there’s anything I should know about. I try to stay calm; keep my mind distracted with my work.  
  
“What about you, Peeta?” I hear Thresh ask, using a normal tone once more. “Where you from?”  
  
“Nebraska Territory,” I hear Peeta answer. “I helped my family run a bakery there.”  
  
“You plan on returning to that when you get out of here?”  
  
“Not exactly,” Peeta says. “Only one brother and his wife are still alive. They don’t really need my help right now.”  
  
“That’s too bad,” Thresh says, and there is genuine empathy in his voice. “You got a girl or anything?”  
  
I snap my head up at this question, and look right into Peeta’s blue eyes as he gives the smallest of smiles - as though he is trying to hold it back, but not succeeding - in my direction. “There is someone,” is all he says.  
  
Thresh picks up on the cue, however, and follows Peeta’s gave over at me. Immediately I drop my head again, and act as though I haven’t been paying any attention the whole time. Whatever Thresh’s impression is, he doesn’t voice it. Perhaps he’ll think Peeta is simply suffering from unrequited loved. Though, now that I think about it, would it be a bad thing for the other Union soldiers to know I’ve been claimed by one of their own?  
  
At last, I hear the unmistakable sound of one of them rising, and hear Thresh say he’s tired. I realize that’s my cue, and move to play the proper hostess by showing him to his room. I ensure the fire in his room is roaring, and that he has an adequate amount of blankets on his bed, and then I slip out into the hallway, moving as quietly as I can. A small part of me is hoping I can escape up to my own room unnoticed. The dishes aren’t entirely cleaned, but what remains can wait until morning. For now, I just want to be alone with my thoughts.  
  
But it’s to no avail, because Peeta is waiting for me at the end of the hall. He’s leaned across the frame of the entrance, not blocking my way exactly, but ensuring that I pay attention to him. I stop inches from him, and force myself to greet his eyes.  
  
“Thresh was right, wasn’t he?” he asks me. “About his sister.”  
  
I say nothing for a long while, then finally nod my head.   
  
“Rue?”  
  
“Yes,” I hiss.  
  
“What happened to her?”  
  
I don’t want to have this conversation here, where any one of the newly arrived Union soldiers could hear us. Not to mention Thresh. When I don’t answer, Peeta seems to understand.  
  
“Come on,” he says and gently guides me to his own bedroom. He ushers me inside, where I sit on the same chair I had several nights earlier. He settles down on the bed across from me, and looks at me, waiting for my explanation to come.  
  
“She did work in the house here,” I finally tell him. “She was my sister’s personal servant.”  
  
He nods. “What happened to her?”  
  
“I don’t know,” I say with a shake of my head. “She disappeared not long after we received news that the slaves had been freed.”  
  
“She didn’t say where she was going?”  
  
“Of course not,” I say crossly. Why would she? She had no reason to be around us any longer, now that her freedom had been granted. She was probably up north by now, working at some fancy new job where she was allowed wages in compensation.   
  
Peeta is looking at me hard. “She didn’t even give you any sort of clue about where she went?”  
  
“I told you, no!” I snap. Peeta frowns at me.  
  
“I’m just trying to see if we can help Thresh, what are you so upset about?”  
  
That’s a good question. In truth, I’m not sure what it is that’s upsetting me about this situation. But the slaves were slaves, and other than guarding against them running away, what they did with their personal lives was none of our concern. I don’t see why it makes any difference what I know about Rue, and I tell Peeta so.  
  
“You would want to know. If it were you, and you were looking for Prim,” he tells me in a dark tone. His frown has deepened, which has caused my own to do the same. I cross my arms and stubbornly look away from him. He didn’t need to bring that into it.  
  
There’s an icy silence between us for a few moments. Peeta is the first to break it. “I’m not trying to antagonize you, Katniss,” he relents. “I’m just trying to help a family attempting to piece itself back together after the war. You can understand that, right?”  
  
I don’t want to give in. But he’s right. I do understand how it feels, damn him. So I roughly nod, but I still refuse to look at him. I can feel him studying me, however, and after a few deep breaths he decides to go in for the kill.  
  
“There’s more to this than you’re admitting, isn’t there? Katniss?”  
  
I jerk my head sharply to glare at him, and then I stand up and angrily make my way to the door. Peeta is on his feet too, and before I can make it out of his room, he’s reached me, gently tugging at my elbow to encourage me to stop.  
  
“I’m sorry, Katniss. Don’t go. Whatever it is, you don’t need to tell me about it now.”  
  
I give him a stony look. “Or ever.”  
  
He swallows; he clearly does not agree with me. But he only nods his head, slowly, deliberately. “Or ever, if you don’t want to. But I’d like it if you did.”  
  
“There’s nothing to tell,” I say as I wipe away the tears that have unexpectedly sprung to my eyes.  
  
“All right,” he concedes. “I’m sorry for upsetting you.”  
  
“You didn’t,” I say, even though I know the tears state otherwise. Peeta laughs softly, and pulls me to him, wrapping me in his strong arms and peppering my face with kisses.   
  
“Please don’t be offended, Miss Everdeen, but I believe I did.” He moves his lips so they’re up against my ear. “I can make you feel better, if you’d like.” He says it in a rough whisper, and his lips graze against my ear as he says it, his warm breath tantalizing against my skin. I feel something come alive down below.  
  
I open my mouth to protest, but instead a low moan escapes me. Peeta pulls back, grinning mischievously, then captures my mouth with his own. I immediately open and greet his tongue with mine, which causes me to involuntarily grind against him from the sensation.   
  
He pulls back suddenly, panting, his eyes dark with lust as he looks at me apologetically. “I’m sorry, Katniss,” he says. “I promised I would behave myself from now on.”  
  
I let out a noise, somewhere between an exasperated sigh and a longing whimper. But I nod in agreement, because I know he’s right. There is too much at risk right now to be giving in to such activities again. That doesn’t stop us from sharing another kiss, however. And as we break apart, I collapse against his chest in frustration. “I suppose I should break things off with Gale right away, then,” I mutter, my voice muffled against his shirt.  
  
He laughs, and rubs a hand lazily up and down my back. “That would be good,” he agrees.   
  
The embrace feels almost as nice as his petting did, and I’m reluctant to break from the sanctuary of his arms. Eventually I know I must, though, and with a final kiss I bid him goodnight.  
  
I lay in bed for some time after that, lost in thought over everything we talked about. Why did it matter so much to Peeta what I knew about Rue, what my interactions with her had been? The Negroes were different from us, and that was that. Never had I known someone who had willingly taken such a strong interest in them. Why did he care?  
  
Eventually I slip into a restless sleep, and Rue becomes all that haunts my dreams. I awaken with a start in the middle of the night, and there’s a part of me that wants to go back downstairs and slip in beside Peeta; to feel his reassuring warmth and his strong arms rock me into security. I shake the urge off, however - we risk being caught that way. Besides, Peeta would probably think I was being silly. So I lay in my bed, trying to guess the minutes left before dawn arrives, and fall into another shaky sleep.  
  
  
  
  
  
It’s much louder around the house with four men instead of just the one. We also have three times the work to be done now. Between Prim, Mama and me, the chores to be done around the house are not a problem to balance. The problem comes with providing enough food to feed our newly grown household. With the extra time I have to spend mending clothes, doing laundry, turning down beds, I’m left with very little time to sneak off to forage.  
  
“Let me help,” Peeta insists on one of our secret rendezvous. “They already think I’m the one providing the meat, anyhow.”  
  
“How would we explain the sudden surplus in game?” I ask.  
  
Peeta thinks for a moment. “It’s getting close to spring. Animals are beginning to come out more now.”  
  
I only sigh. I’m so tired, and it’s getting hard enough to coordinate our time together, let alone how we’re going to cover the possibility of both of us out there foraging.  
  
“It was only a suggestion,” Peeta says as he allows me to rest my head against his chest. “I don’t want to see you tire yourself out.”  
  
“I’m fine,” I insist as my eyes flutter shut at the sensation of his lips against my forehead. It’s nice, this time I’m able to spend with him. It’s my only real respite I get from the endless work required around here. But it’s become harder and harder for us to find the time, with everyone around us now. Especially since Prim has taken it upon herself to watch us like a hawk. She’s on to us, there’s no use denying that. And maybe I should just admit it to her already. The thought seems easier to consider somehow, from the safety of Peeta’s arms. But I know it’s probably best if I wait until we tell all the rest.  
  
To top it off, Gale has decided to spend more time over here as well. To say he was unhappy at the news more soldiers had arrived was an understatement. The only real advantage to it at all is that now, instead of focusing his anger entirely on Peeta, he has three other soldiers to take it out on. The sight of Thresh in particular seemed to make his blood boil.  
  
But he still watches Peeta the most. I suppose, after his comment about the way Peeta looks at me, that isn’t much of a surprise, either.  Especially since it turns out he was right to be worried. I wonder if he’s seen any difference in either of us in these past few days. I try to avoid looking at Peeta as often as possible when Gale is around, and because of that, I don’t know what Peeta is doing during that time.  
  
I still haven’t found the right time or way to break things off with him, either. With all that I have to do every day, I have no idea when I would do it. But I know I’m going to have to do it soon, because the wedding is set for a month from now. Our time together is usually spent with Gale rambling on about the plans for the wedding - how my mother promised I could wear her dress, where we’ll live after we’re married, how he has an aunt his mother would like to invite to come give me some tips on manners. But I hardly hear any of it, because my mind is so consumed with where our next meal will come from, and how I’m going to break things off with him.  
  
  
I don’t mean to string him along like this. I don’t mean to string Peeta along, either. Peeta is holding himself together as much as possible, but I can see he’s beginning to grow frustrated with me. I know I have to do something, and soon. In the meantime, however, he is the only thing that is holding me together right now. I don’t know how I could have kept my family going this long without his help.  
  
I’m not the only one who is feeling the strain. The reality of living with four Union soldiers, and not a proper Southern gentleman living here to protect us, is taking its toll on Mama. Peeta was one thing - there was only one of him, and besides, he was always so kind to us right from the start. But with these other ones, Thresh and Brutus in particular, she has become visibly more nervous.  
  
To make matters worse, these new soldiers have begun making friends with the others already stationed in the homes around the neighborhood. I never noticed before how Peeta never invited others over to socialize, but now that the others are doing so - without even seeking our permission first - I’m grateful that he didn’t.  
  
“It seemed rude to me,” he explains to me one day. Then his face grows dark. “Besides,” he says, in a hushed tone that suggests he doesn’t think he should be telling me this in the first place, “most soldiers have been out on the battlefields and away from any sense of nobility or honor for so long, they’ve forgotten how to act civilized. And that goes for both sides.”  
  
“But you didn’t?” I ask.  
  
He laughs. “I don’t know if you could call my behavior with you civilized, exactly. But I try to not let the things I witnessed change me too much.”  
  
He mentioned this to me once before, and I can’t help feeling curious. “Like what?” I ask.  
  
Peeta grows silent for a long while. I can feel him steady his breath, and as he strokes my hair I can feel that his hand is tense; he fidgets with strands of it nervously. “I’d rather not talk about it,” he finally says in a voice I’ve never heard him use before.   
  
He’s quiet for a little while after that. At one point, I even see him walk to his room and shut the door. I’m baffled by this behavior, and I’m tempted to follow him, to find out what’s making him behave this way. But something inside me knows that isn’t a good idea. So I leave him be, until he’s ready to come out on his own. And when he finally does, his entire face lights up at the sight of me. I decide to say nothing about this, and let him wait until he’s ready to bring it up himself.  
  
  
  
  
One night, we’re just about to settle down for supper. Mama is not here yet, and Gale will not be joining us this evening, which means I’m free to sit where I’d like for once. I immediately move for Peeta, but stop as I second guess myself. One look from Prim, however, and I can see that I might as well. So I take my place next to him, and as I do I can see him give me a startled glance.  
  
Mama finally comes in to join us, and as she enters the dining room, I can see she’s carrying a letter. Immediately I fear the worst, but then I notice she’s also smiling and my apprehension ebbs away. As she takes her seat, she glances around the table, mainly looking at Prim and me. If she thinks anything suspicious of my sitting next to Peeta, she says nothing.  
  
“What is it, Mama?” Prim chirps.   
  
Mama takes a big breath, making it clear she has some big news. “I received a letter from your Uncle Haymitch today,” she tells us. “He says he’s on his way here as we speak. He wants to be here to watch his brother’s family in his absence.” She holds her stance well, but I know what she’s implying: watch his brother’s family to protect them from the awful Yankee soldiers. I sweep my eyes around the table to see if any of them notice. The other three look unfazed. Peeta has raised an eyebrow, but it seems to be more out of interest than anything.   
  
And interesting, things should now be. We never saw much of our uncle when my father was alive, but the few times we did meet my father’s half-brother, he never bothered with any pretenses of being a gentleman. Sarcastic, blunt, and a drunkard. That’s Haymitch Abernathy. I wonder how much protection he really will provide if we need it. Somehow, I think I’d rather take my chances with Peeta than him.  
  
But Prim, ever the proper lady, beams at the news. She seems almost genuinely excited, but I realize that Prim may not remember our Uncle Haymitch as well as I do. She may not realize what she’s about to get into.  
  
“That’s wonderful!” she says.  
  
“When will he be here?” I ask, my tone not anywhere near as bright.   
  
Mama glances back at the letter. Then, without even a flinch, answers, “tomorrow.”  
  
Our house is certainly filling its once empty rooms.  
  
  
  
  
Peeta helped me prepare the place for Haymitch’s arrival the entire day. In the moments when we were alone, he pressed me for as much information about the old man as possible - who he was, how he was related to us, where he was coming from. I answered to the best of my ability, but in truth, Peeta’s questions have made me realize how little I actually know about Haymitch. Growing up, my parents were primarily concerned with my sister’s and my upbringing, and then the welfare of the plantation. The life outside our small world was hardly ever brought up, apart from the occasional letter or visit. Besides, I always had a feeling they were trying to shelter us from the lifestyle Haymitch lived.  
  
Now, however, Prim and I stand side by side, as straight and proper as we can possibly manage, as Mama greets him, giving him a gracious hug as he climbs out of the carriage. There is no one with him, which would mean that the carriage and, presumably the horse with it, would belong to him.  
  
A carriage. That should certainly come in handy around here.  
  
Mama introduces us proudly, gushing over the both of us and urging us to step forward and give our uncle a proper greeting. Haymitch only gives us both a lookover, then shakes our hand. He mumbles a greeting in return to Prim’s, but at my sullen stare he takes a moment to frown at me.  
  
“Good to see you, too, sweetheart,” he slurs, and it’s clear that despite the long journey he somehow made in one piece, he’s been drinking. My frown deepens at his chosen nickname for me.  
  
“Welcome, Uncle Haymitch,” I say through gritted teeth.  
  
“Katniss!” Mama scolds me, horrified, but Haymitch gives a loud, bellowing laugh. “She has some spirit, I’ll give her that,” he says, only a few inches away from me, and I wrinkle my nose at the stench of the moonshine on his breath.  
  
Giving me a look that promises she’ll be having a word with me about my unladylike behavior, Mama urges us all inside. “Let me put away my horse and carriage, first,” he says and ambles back down to ride off to the stable.  
  
When he makes his way back, he’s struggling to drag a chest with him. “Let me get you some help for that, Haymitch,” Mama calls, then disappears inside for a moment. When she reappears, Peeta and Thresh are in tow. Peeta glances at me as he passes, flashing me the slightest of smiles as he makes his way down the stairs and across the lawn where he and Thresh hoist the chest up and over their shoulders. The two make quick work of bringing it over to the house, and even go so far as carrying it to the room that will now be Haymitch’s.   
  
“Well, now,” Haymitch says as he joins us on the porch. “I see you have yourself some Yankee houseguests.”  
  
“Yes, Haymitch. It’s been so dreadful, having to put up with them here,” Mama tells him, and I can’t help the feeling of resentment threatening to rise up over the way she’s lumping Peeta in with the rest of them. “It’s so wonderful that you were able to arrive when you did.” And she begins to tell him all of the things that have been happening since the end of the war, and the occupation of Union forces in our houses, and keeps mentioning how happy she is that a proper gentleman will be here to protect us from them, but all the while I can see that his eyes have been glued on me. I shift uncomfortably, and refuse to meet his gaze.  
  
“I don’t know,” Haymitch breaks Mama’s tirade suddenly, “the blond kid and the negro didn’t seem so bad.”  
  
Mama falters. “Erm... yes, they’re not quite so bad. But they are still Yankees, Haymitch,” she assures him, then quickly ends the conversation by ushering us inside and making a big to do about how famished he must be after his long journey. Haymitch follows without another word, but I have an unsettling feeling that more is going on in that drunken mind of his than he’s letting on. **  
**


	4. Chapter 4

Mama draws me immediately off to the side to reprimand me for my behavior. On her face she wears an expression that’s a mixture of embarrassment and concern. “What’s gotten into you, Katniss?” she asks me as she tries to search my eyes that I’m trying to keep as unemotional as possible.  
  
When I say nothing, she lets a long, tired sigh, and begins another lecture on how a proper lady is supposed to behave. I want to tell her that it’s no use, that I am not a proper lady by any means of the word by now. But then all my dirty little secrets would have to be spilled, and there’s no way I could do that at this point.  
  
She commands me to apologize to Haymitch immediately following supper, so after the dishes have been cleared and the kitchen has been cleaned, I find myself in the living room, face to face with a still inebriated Haymitch. In fact, he’s not only still inebriated, I notice - he’s going in for round two by this point, judging by the fresh stench of liquor that rises to greet me as I enter the room, and the unmarked jug sitting not too far away from him.  
  
“What’s that?” I frown at it.  
  
Haymitch hiccups. “Moonshine,” he tells me. “You wanna try some, sweetheart?”  
  
“No, thank you,” I make a face at him. I haven’t completely lost all aspects of being ladylike.   
  
“Suit yourself,” he says as he takes another swig. I sigh, and try to squash down my annoyance as I attempt to get out what I came here to do. “I’m sorry for being rude to you out on the porch... Uncle Haymitch.” I force myself to add the last part.  
  
Haymitch takes one look at me before he bursts out laughing. “Did your mother tell you to do this?”  
  
My hands roll into balls. He looks at me, trying not to laugh at the sight of me, and also trying as hard as he can to stay focused on me. I’m angry, and as far as I’ve concerned I have already accomplished what I set out to do when I came here, so I spin on my feet to march out of the room when Haymitch’s voice stops me in my tracks.  
  
“So you gotta thing for the Yankee, eh, sweetheart?”  
  
I freeze, and turn my head to the side ever so slightly - not enough to be looking at him, but enough to show that I’m paying attention. “What did you say?” I measure my words slowly.  
  
Haymitch takes another swig from his bottle. “The blond one. Saw you two making eyes at each other out on the porch. And throughout supper. Does your Ma know?”  
  
“No,” I say through gritted teeth. “There’s nothing to tell.”  
He lets out another laugh, one that’s much louder than it needs to be. “I bet there isn’t,” he says.   
  
I smolder, giving him my best glare before I turn around and stomp out, making sure to close the door behind me as loudly as possible. I can still hear Haymitch laughing uproariously through it.  
  
“What’s so funny?”  
  
I jump, and turn to find Peeta standing behind me, his mouth turned upwards in a lopsided grin as he looks curiously at the door.  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
Peeta tears his eyes from the door to frown at me. “That’s not good. What’d he say?”  
  
“It was nothing,” I insist, hoping he’ll get the hint. I can’t tell him here, where prying ears may pick up on our conversation. I push past him pointedly, without another word.  
  
  
  
  
It’s my job to tend to the fires that night. I stoke Mama’s and Prim’s, even Haymitch’s, before I tend to the ones downstairs. I put out the ones in the main rooms and the kitchen before I head down the hallway. When I reach the first door, I knock quietly. It opens, and Peeta is smiling at me.  
  
“Hello,” he says.   
  
“I’m here to stoke your fire,” I say as I push past him into the room.  
  
“What?” he gives me a quizzical look as he watches me cross over to the fireplace. “I can do it.”  
  
“I’m tending to other fires,” I say as I cross to the fireplace. “It’s my chore.” I notice his sketchbook is flipped open on the bed as I pass; he must have been drawing when I interrupted him.  
  
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him give a shrug. “If you say so,” he says, and takes his seat on the bed to resume his sketching. I bend over, and carefully begin to toss pieces of kindling onto the dying flames. Once I’m finished, I turn around to bid Peeta goodnight. I’m surprised to see he’s poised, pencil frozen mid stroke in his hand, his eyes dark as they watch me. Slowly, he brings them up to meet mine.  
  
“What is it?” I ask.  
  
I see him swallow. “Are you finished stoking the fire?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
His eyes dart back down to his sketchbook for a moment, though he doesn’t draw. Then, he sets it aside and looks back up at me; moves off the bed and crosses over to me. Without a word, he throws his arms around me and pulls me to him, kissing me so passionately that I’m actually a bit light-headed when we break apart.   
  
Peeta is breathing heavily, and his eyes look nearly wild as he gazes at me.   
  
“Peeta, what are you doing?”  
  
He just continues to stare, his eyes moving only to trail up and down my body, then his face finally breaks into a silly grin. “I’m stoking the fire.”  
  
I laugh, despite it all, because the joke is so bad. Peeta seems to realize it as well, because his smile turns into a full grin as he laughs with me. He pulls me towards him and gives me another kiss, this one much calmer.  
  
“Are you going to bed now?”  
  
“Yes, in a minute.”  
  
“I wish it were with me,” he grins as he kisses me again, then begins to trail his way down my neck.  
  
“Peeta...” I begin, but I’m cut off with a gasp at the feel of him nipping against my skin. He brings his hands up and places them on my waist.  
  
“The joke was bad,” he whispers, “but my intent was serious.”   
  
“We can’t. There are others here. It’s so risky.”  
  
“I know,” he grins wickedly.  
  
“They’ll hear us.”  
  
“Not if we’re quiet.”  
  
It’s completely against my better judgment, but as Peeta gives me another kiss that leaves me breathless, I know I want it as much as he does. I nod as he breaks away from me.  
  
  
In an instant, my garments have hit the floor, followed quickly by Peeta’s. He shoves me against the wall, holding me in place with his body pressed against mine inch for inch as he kisses me frantically. His tongue dips into the slit where my lips meet, urging them open so his can dance with mine. I feel him harden; he’s pressed himself up so firm against me that it brushes against my folds, causing me to whimper into his mouth. Peeta grins against my mouth, and purposely rolls his hips against me so that his manhood comes in contact with me firmer. He brings a hand up and carefully runs it through my hair, caressing my scalp and making me shiver violently.  
  
Suddenly he stops and pulls away so that he’s looking me straight in the eyes. “Well. Now that we’re here, I think we should enjoy ourselves,” he says in a husky voice. “So what can I do to you that you’ll enjoy?” He reaches down, takes himself in his hand and slowly begins to work himself. I watch in utter fascination, and he grins when he sees it. He brings his lips up to my ear, just as he had done that night I told him about Rue, and whispers into it with that same hot breath.  
  
“I think about you every night like this,” he tells me. “I think about your heated body pressed up against mine, just like it is now, while I touch myself. Do you ever touch yourself and think of me, Katniss?”   
  
Embarrassed, I shake my head. “I’ve never touched myself before,” I admit in a shaky voice.  
  
“No?” he asks, feigning concern. “I suppose I’ll have to touch you tonight to make up for that, then.” He takes my earlobe in his mouth and gives it a long suck. “Do you want to know what else I think about, Katniss?”  
  
I can’t speak, so I nod. He pulls away and grins at me wickedly. “Go get on your hands and knees,” he commands. “And not on the bed. Do it on the rug in front of the fireplace. The bed will make too much noise.”  
  
I obey, trembling as I settle in position. I’m already warm as it is, but the heat radiating from the fire has me perspiring in no time. I can feel Peeta as he comes up from behind me, feel him put a hand on my bottom cheek and massage it.  
  
Then I feel his tongue slip between my folds. He takes a long lap downwards, stopping just short of that spot above my entrance. I gasp at the contact. He moves back, repeats his motions. Meanwhile I’m having a hard time controlling the little noises escaping me. Finally, after one particularly drawn out stroke, I feel his tongue plunge inside me.  
  
My limbs nearly give way, my entire body shaking. But the longer he works, the harder a time I have staying like this. Finally, he pulls back and my arms and legs finally give.  
  
Peeta flips me over, and picks me up so that I’m sitting in his lap, his hardened manhood sitting flush with my thigh.   
“I think about the taste of you on my tongue,” he says, “and the thought of you tasting yourself on it when you kiss me.” And then he does so, lapping his tongue against mine and there is no question that I’m tasting myself on him. He brings his hands up to my chest, and takes a breast in each one.   
  
“I think about the swell of your breasts as I make your nipples as hard as rock,” he says as he does exactly that, rolling each one between his fingers. I let out a groan, my head falling backwards both from the feeling and from the words he’s saying. Speaking this openly about my body is frowned on around here.  
  
“And then I think about how they would feel, how they would taste in my mouth as I carefully sucked each one until I was sure they were good and hard.” And he does it, flicking my nipples with his tongue between artful sucks that cause me to whimper and dig my nails into his shoulders.  
  
“I think about your breasts all day, Katniss. How badly they need to be sucked.” He takes more of one into his mouth, mimicking his words. He engulfs it with his lips, then pulls back slowly until only the nipple is left inside. He lays me down on my back while he still has me in his mouth, and his hand begins to dip down between my legs.  
  
“And while I’m sucking on your breasts, I think about making you come with my fingers.” His mouth moves to the other breast, repeating his actions with this one, while one hand begins to move on that spot, rubbing it in circles, picking up the pace as I begin bucking against him. He shifts his position so that he’s resting on his haunches, then brings the other hand down. My breath hitches in my throat as I feel first one finger, and then another and another slip into me, moving in and out of me in rhythm to the fingers on me. My entire body is wracked with shivers as I grind against him, barely able to contain the sounds escaping me now.  
  
Just as I feel I’m about to reach that peak, Peeta stops, pulling his fingers out and away from me. I open my eyes, which I hadn’t even realized were close, and look up at him, questioning; pleading.  
  
He just grins down to me, and raises an eyebrow. He leans over and kisses me, then moves his mouth to the side of my head. “But most of all, I think about having my cock buried deep inside you.”  
  
“Yes,” I gasp, nodding, needing the ache that’s sprung up deep inside me to be satisfied.   
  
“You want that, too?” he asks, grinning mischievously. I nod.   
  
He surprises me by standing up and walking over to his chest. He opens it, reaches inside and draws something out. Walking back over to me, he sits back on his knees and rips open the package. He glances up, sees my questioning look. Suddenly, he seems a little sheepish.  
  
“It’s a condom,” he tells me. My brow creases in confusion.  
  
“It’s to keep you from becoming pregnant. I, uh, bought one off one of the other soldiers. Just in case... this happened.” In the time it’s taken him to explain it to me, he’s managed to get the rubber contraption unrolled and on him. He moves on top of me, kissing me fiercely. Then he positions himself, and slides inside me.  
  
It’s different with a condom. At first it’s almost a little too strange. But Peeta’s movements begin to fall into a repetitive pattern, and I become so caught up in the feeling of him moving in and out of me that all thoughts of the rubber vanish from my mind. I bring my arms up under his, wrapping around his backside, pulling him closer to me. Eventually, his talking resumes.  
  
“I think about fucking you so hard, I make you scream. You scream when you come, and everybody knows what I’ve done to you. There’s no question about who you want to be with then.” He pulls me closer, changing the angle so he can go deeper inside me. I come very close to screaming when I feel him hit spots I didn’t know existed.  
  
“Why are you so afraid to tell the others how you feel about me, Katniss?” he murmurs. “Afraid that if they find out, they’ll know I know what it feels like to have you wrapped around my cock?  That I know the whimpers you make, the way your whole body convulses around mine when I bring you to release? That I’ve seen so much more than just your ankle, and have yet to ask anybody but you for your hand in marriage?”  
  
I whimper; he groans.  
  
“Katniss,” he moans, “you feel so... so good. I... I never knew it could feel this good.” He kisses me. “I love you so damn much, Katniss. I can’t wait for you to be my wife.”  
  
His words stir something in me. I draw my head back to look at him; he holds my gaze, and searches my eyes as I search his. Then he’s smiling gently down at me; brushing flyaway strands of hair away from my face as he gazes down at me. He leans down and gives me a long kiss.  
  
“I love you, Katniss,” he continues in a whisper. “All day, I think about you. About ravishing you, worshipping your body, making you sing for me.” Another kiss. “I hate that we have to hide this. I want to tell the world how happy you make me.” Peeta shifts his body again in such a way that causes us both to groan in unison.  “I want to hold your hand in public and whisper things in your ear about how much I love you. I want to be able to make you feel good whenever we want to.”  
  
Suddenly, I become hypersensitive to every little detail: the way Peeta’s musky scent surrounds me, his strong arms framing me and the way they strain with every thrust he makes. My hands climb up those arms, rock hard to the touch from the way he’s holding himself; I feel him shudder at my touch as my hands trail upwards. I slide up his shoulders, wrapping my arms around them and pulling him down to me.   
  
Peeta has stopped talking by this point, and concentrates only on his movements; the way our bodies fit together. He moves an arm underneath my neck, elevating it so he can greet me halfway as I lower him to me. When our lips meet, it’s as if a fire has been sparked inside of me. I want to crawl up into him, melt into one being with him. I feel as though I already have. Though I can still feel the delicious stroke of him as he slips in and out of my body, it becomes hard to know where I end and he begins.   
  
“Peeta,” I hear myself whine as I wrap myself around him completely. “Oh, Peeta.” He turns his head so that he can kiss me in the crook of my neck. He pulls his arm out from its place behind my neck, lowering my head gently to the ground, and moves his arm down to take hold of my hand, guiding it to that place between my folds where pleasure seems to come from. Together, we begin to rub me until I’m trembling.   
  
“Come for me, Katniss,” his hoarse voice whispers into my ear. “Come for me. Come on me.” My hand falls away to the side, grabbing a handful of the carpet. His fingers stay on me. “Come on my cock.”  
  
I let out a strangled cry that he immediately swallows by covering my mouth with his own. My body writhes against him, my back arching up off the floor, pressing into him. I grab desperately onto his shoulders, sinking my nails into them as white sparks begin to blur my vision. I can feel myself shaking, feel me clamping down on Peeta inside me which only makes the whole thing feel even more amazing. I’ve never felt this alive. Peeta swears under his breath at the feeling of me on him, and a moment later he spills into the condom.   
  
He collapses on me, still inside me, both of us breathing hard and still trembling. Peeta drops kisses onto my lips while he collects himself, and at first I eagerly return them. But after a while, something begins to creep up on me. I think of all that happened tonight, all the things he did to me that I never, in my wildest imagination, would have come up with. And slowly it begins to dawn on me where they came from. Conflicting emotions begin to bubble up inside me; torn between the intense closeness I feel to him after this last session, and something else. Something that makes me feel completely unsure about all of this.   
  
We’re both silent for a long while after Peeta pulls out of me. I turn over on my side, my back to him, needing a chance to collect my thoughts. After a minute, I feel him press himself up behind me, cupping my small body with his larger one. Wrapping his arms around my mid, he pulls my back flush against his chest, cradling me. I let him do so, but still I say nothing. Like always, it’s him who ends up breaking the silence.  
  
“Katniss,” he says my name in a hushed, almost reverent voice. I don’t answer. I feel him absently draw lazy patterns on my arm in the absence of my response.  
  
“I didn’t know it could feel that way.” He says it so quietly, almost as if he’s saying it to himself instead of me.   
  
For some reason, this gives me spark to find my words. “Oh? Not something you learned from one of your whores, huh?”  
  
“What?” He makes no attempt to mask the confusion in his voice, and I know I’ve caught him completely off guard. Behind me, I can feel him raise himself up on one arm. He stares down at me for a minute, but I refuse to turn my gaze to meet his. Instead I just keep staring out in front of me.  
  
“Are you angry about that, Katniss?”  
  
I say nothing.  
  
“I told you I would take that back if I could.” He’s sat up completely now, leaving me alone, rolled up on the floor. I curl up further, trying to make myself into a ball. Maybe then I could disappear; not have to deal with all these new feelings pervading my mind.  
  
“At least I’m not engaged to someone else,” he says at last. I twist my head around and finally meet his eyes with a glare. He holds it, steady and stern, unrelenting. I open my mouth to fire out a retort; close it again. Open to try once more before I think twice and shut it again, and turn my glare back to the space underneath his bed.  
  
I hear Peeta give out a languished sigh. “What’s wrong, Katniss?” he asks, and reaches out to gently stroke my hair. I close my eyes at the feeling, and for a minute let it lull me into a calmness.   
  
“Did you learn it from them?” I ask, my voice small.  
  
“What? From the prostitutes? Yes,” he admits. “But not the last part, Katniss.”  
  
Again, I say nothing.  
  
“Does it really bother you that much? You never said anything before.”  
  
He makes a fair point. He told me about them the first time we ever were together. It bothered me then, but not like it is right now. I sit up, but I still don’t turned to face him.  
  
“That last part wasn’t from them,” he repeats. “That was us. Just us.” He waits; I say nothing. “Do you want to talk about it?”  
  
No, I don’t, actually. “What part?”  
  
I hear him sigh in exasperation. “You know what I’m talking about. Katniss, come on. Don’t shut down like this. Tell me what’s bothering you, so I can fix it.”  
  
I bring my arms up and cross them across my body, cupping my elbows. I drop my gaze. “I wish you hadn’t been with them,” I finally admit quietly.  
  
“So do I. But I’ve told you that already. There isn’t anything I can do about that. It doesn’t make what you and I do any less meaningful, though. Is that what’s bothering you?” he asks when he sees my frown.   
  
It’s not just that, though it is a part of it. “No. I don’t know,” I tell him as I pick at a piece of the carpet that’s sticking up next to me.   
  
“Yes you do.”  
  
I sigh. Fine. If he wants me to tell him, then I’ll tell him, though I’m almost mortified to have to admit it. “I don’t want you to be with anyone else,” I confess.  
  
He waits. “Is that it?”  
  
I mean to tell him yes, but when I open my mouth, more spills out. The next thing I know, I’m babbling something about how I don’t understand what’s happening to me, and how I’m afraid I’m beginning to act like the girls around the neighborhood who were always so clingy over their various beaux in a way I never understood, and Peeta is laughing at me.  
  
“What?” I snap.  
  
“You,” he says. “Did you think you were immune to those feelings?”  
  
I scowl.   
  
“So what does this have to do with prostitutes?”  
  
I look at him, hoping it’s enough, that he’ll be able to understand without my having to say it. He doesn’t. Or if he does, he doesn’t admit to it. Instead he waits for me to speak. Then, when I don’t, he surprises me by moving so that he picks me up and sits me in his lap. He rubs my arm soothingly, kisses the back of my neck, then murmurs into my ear, “Tell me, Katniss.”  
  
“I don’t want you to be with anyone else,” I admit at last.   
  
“I won’t be,” he kisses my shoulder.  
  
“I wish you had been with me, first.”  
  
Peeta continues his caresses quietly for a long minute. Then, lifting me out of his lap, he stands, then helps me up. He moves to the bed, draws the sheets back, then motions for me to climb in. I do, and he follows, sitting with his back against the headboard and pulling me to him so that my head rests against his shoulder. He tucks the blankets in around us.   
  
“I love you, Katniss,” he whispers into the silence.  
  
“I know,” I admit.  
  
“It doesn’t matter if you weren’t my first. Because it doesn’t change that.”  
  
I say nothing.  
  
“It’s different with you, Katniss,” he continues. “When I’m with you, it’s not about relieving myself, like it was with them. It’s about you. Making you feel good.”  
  
Still I say nothing, but he takes hold of my hand and weaves his fingers between mine. “You’re my first everything else. You’re my first love.”  
  
I look up at him in surprise. Surely that can’t be true. “You’ve never been in love before?”  
  
He shakes his head. “No.”  
  
“Not even back in Nebraska?” Another shake of his head.  
  
“So I’m the first lady you’ve ever done anything proper with?”  
  
“Well, now I didn’t say that,” he says looking slightly amused. “I courted a few ladies back home before the war. But none of them left a lasting impression. Until you.”  
  
I’m quiet for a long while as I think about this. Peeta fidgets a little in this silence, then tightens the hold he has on me. Finally, I speak.  
  
“I never had any beaux before Gale.”  
  
He looks at me, but says nothing, encouraging me to go on.  
  
“Not a one. The other girls had plenty, but I never was involved in any of that.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“I don’t know. I don’t think any of the young men around here saw me as desirable enough.”  
  
“I don’t believe that,” he says, and plants a kiss on my temple.  
  
“It’s true,” I sigh. “Mama used to fret about it constantly. If I didn’t marry a good husband, she would have felt like a failure. But then the war broke out, and it didn’t matter anyway because the men all ran off to fight it,” and I can hear the bitterness in my voice as I say it. “I’m not sure why Gale proposed when he came back. It took me completely by surprise.”  
  
“He never courted you before the war?”  
  
I think back, trying to remember. Those are memories that I’ve tried my best to forget by this point. Because there’s no sense in it. No sense in dwelling on days we’ll never have back again.   
  
“No. We were friends since childhood. But he never seemed to have much interest in courting, me in particular, until he came home. And I agreed, because I thought it was the only offer I would ever receive. And I couldn’t disappoint Mama.”  
  
“But you didn’t love him? You don’t now?”  
  
“No,” I insist, and feeling defensive I set up and away from him. “Why do you keep asking me that?”  
  
“You know why.”  
  
I rest my head in my hands. “I don’t know how to get out of it, Peeta,” I confess.  
  
“Start with the truth.”  
  
I sigh. Yes, that would be the right place to start, of course. But Peeta makes it sound so much easier than it’s going to be. “I don’t want him to hurt you,” I murmur.  
  
“I’m a soldier in the Union Army, Katniss. I think I can handle myself.”  
  
He’s right, of course. I lean back into him, turn so I can bury my face in his bare chest. He brings a hand up, comfortingly stroke my hair while trying to coax me back out. I have to tell him. I don’t know how to do it without opening up that part of me that I’ve never allowed anyone in before. Finally, I manage to bring myself back out, sit back and fix him with a serious look. He returns it to me, his eyebrows raised as he waits for me to speak.  
  
“You’re mine, too,” I mutter, running the words together as though it will somehow make the impact lessen, and he’ll let it go. It doesn’t work.  
  
“Your what?” I know he knows what I’m talking about. He just wants to hear me say it. And clearly. So I sigh, and gather myself, look away from him. The lack of eye contact should help me with this, at least.  
  
“You’re my first love as well,” I tell the fireplace.  
  
I’m being pulled backward, and Peeta’s mouth meets mine; hot, but not frantic as it had been earlier. Now he savors every little part of it. He breaks apart, rests his head against mine and grins as he looks me in the eyes. “You love me, Katniss?”  
  
I nod.  
  
“Good. Because I love you, too. And I would have courted you from the moment you were of age,” he says as he kisses me again. “I guess I’m just lucky that they left you for me.” Peeta shifts us so that he’s on top of me and begins kissing me repeatedly. Finally, he pulls back and looks me straight in the eyes.  
  
“Katniss. You must break things off with Mr. Hawthorne. Soon.”  
  
“I know,” I say.  
  
He searches my eyes. “I’m not just talking about being able to court publically...” he trails off. “This... us... we...” he swallows, and I’m surprised to realize that he’s flustered. I can’t help smiling, because the sight of Peeta Mellark unable to find the right words was not one I thought I would see any time soon. My grin seems to seep into his own, and for a moment he gives me a shy smile. This relaxes him a bit, and he begins to gently push my hair out of my eyes.   
  
“Katniss,” he breathes, starting again. “We can’t keep dancing around the fact that we connected in the way we did just now. I think we’re both feeling pretty intensely for each other. Aren’t we?”  
  
I stare into those blue eyes of his, take a deep breath, and shove away every sense telling me to take flight. Still holding his gaze, I slowly nod.  
  
He smiles, and leans in for another kiss before drawing back and growing serious again.  
  
“I would be crushed if I found out you were doing this with someone else behind my back.”  
  
I open my mouth to protest, to assure him I would never do this with anyone else, to once more assure him that it has never been like that between Gale and me, but he puts a hand on my mouth to stop me.  
  
“You don’t need to tell me about your lack of feelings for him again,” he tells me.”I’m just saying, I don’t think he would appreciate being strung along like this. And as for us,” he says, pulling my head to him for another kiss, “I think it’ll be a lot less stressful when the only thing we need to pretend is that our courtship is a chaste one. Because I think we both know this will probably happen again.”  
  
“It can’t,” I protest.  
  
“I know,” he says, “but that doesn’t mean it won’t,” he says as he lets out a yawn. He moves so that he’s beside me again, and gathers me up in his arms.  
  
“Let’s be good from now on, Peeta.”  
  
“All right,” he says lazily, his eyes beginning to drift shut. I watch him for a while as he nods off to sleep, bringing a hand up to run gently through his hair as he does. When at last I know he’s asleep, I kiss him once, on his forehead, before I slip out of his arms, dress myself, and sneak back upstairs to my own bedroom.  
  
Once in my own bed, I don’t fall asleep as easily as Peeta did. I lay awake for a while, thinking about him, the things he said to me; the things I know I must do. More than ever, after tonight. When at last I do drift into sleep, though, it’s a peaceful one.


	5. Chapter 5

My arm stretches across the bed of its own accord. I’m barely conscious, but I can still sense the lazy smile that’s stretched across my face. But when my arm reaches as far as it can go and still has not found what it was seeking, my smile drops, and my eyes snap open as my arm drops down on the bed below it.  
  
“Peeta,” I whisper. He’s not here with me, of course. As my brain begins to emerge into clarity, I remember now that I returned to my own bed before falling asleep last night. My lips fall even further until they’re in a full-blown frown as I look at the empty spot next to me. I wrap the blanket around me tighter for a minute, before sighing and sitting up.  
  
I cringe as I realize how sore I am. Doing so brings every action into sharp memory - the way Peeta moved in me last night, the things he did to my body; the things he said to me. I press my eyes shut again, feeling something unpleasant begin to wash over me, conflicted in my entire being. Gingerly, I lift myself off the bed and carefully dress myself. When I’m finished, I carefully make my way downstairs, hoping to see Peeta and at the same time hoping I won’t.  
  
The latter is the wish granted, because when I enter the kitchen, it’s Mama I find working in there. She glances up at me as I enter and frowns. “You’re up late,” she says, unimpressed.   
  
I feel that unpleasant feeling grow stronger. “I’m sorry,” I mutter. It’s unlike me to wake up this late - the only other time I’ve done so, when I haven’t been sick, is the morning I woke up in Peeta’s bed. The morning when we were alone, and engaging in behaviors we maybe shouldn’t have been engaging in.  
  
I slip into a chair as I grab my breakfast from the stove, leaning a little to keep my weight off the sore spots. Mama looks me over as I do, her expression unwavering. “Sit up straight, Katniss,” she tells me. “It’s unladylike to sit slouched like that.”  
  
My jaw clenches as I drop my gaze, unable to meet her eyes. Without a word, I correct my posture.  
  
“Please watch yourself, Katniss,” Mama continues. “Effie Trinkett will be here in a few days, and I won’t have her thinking I’ve raised a pack of filthy reds.”   
  
I glare at her, but she tempers it with a strict look of her own. I want to shoot a retort to her, but something clicks in my mind. “Effie Trinkett?” I ask, my eyes furrowing. The name sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place where I’ve heard it before.  
  
Mama nods. “That’s right. Gale’s aunt, remember? She has agreed to give you some final grooming on how to be a proper wife and lady.” Maybe I’m just imagining it, but her voice seems to tighten at these final words. I feel my own throat constricting.  
  
“When will she be here?”  
  
“I just told you, she’ll be here in a few days. Honestly, Katniss, aren’t you listening at all?” And she launches into another speech about how a proper lady should behave, but my mind begins to drift, because what’s the use? Nothing Effie Trinkett can do will salvage me now, and besides, this is bad. This makes the wedding more real in my mind, and Peeta’s words from last night come screaming back. I feel a knot twist in my stomach.  
  
“Katniss? Are you all right, Katniss?” Mama is looking at me hard, now slightly worried. I shake my head to clear it.   
  
“Yes. I- I’m fine, Mama.”  
  
“Are you feeling well?” she asks as she moves to put her hand up against my forehead. I nod. “I feel fine,” I insist.  
  
She studies me for a moment before sighing. “All right then, Katniss. Will you please go out and see how Peeta is doing?”  
  
“Peeta?” My ears perk up at the mention of his name.   
  
“Yes. He kindly offered to chop some wood for us this morning. He’s been out there for some time, though, and we’ll need to feed the fire for supper soon. Go see how much longer he’ll be.”  
  
I nod, tucking my skirts around me as I stand, and make my way outside. I walk out across the land, passing the granary, the duck house, the slave quarters, each one of them now empty. I cross the barren fields just to the edge of the woods where I can hear the sounds of Peeta’s chopping ringing through the woods. A few birds can be seen gliding away, but other than that, I can tell it’s going to be several hours before I’ll be able to hunt with any sort of success.  
  
When I finally find Peeta, he is so caught up in his work that he doesn’t notice me at first. So I stand there, watching him as he moves the ax with such precision, using his entire body to maneuver it with each stroke. Peeta is strong, with his broad shoulders and the easy way he can throw things around. It must have come in handy out there on the battlefields, I can’t help thinking.   
  
At last he stops, leaning against the handle of the ax as he wipes the sweat from his brow. I decide to make my presence known. “Are you almost done?”  
  
Peeta jumps, then smiles as he looks over at me. “Why? You eager to start stoking more fires?” He laughs at the look I give him.   
  
“Mama asked me to check how much longer you’d be. We’ll need it for the fire in the kitchen soon. Don’t say it,” I warn him as I watch the grin grow across his face.   
  
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he says a little too innocently. “Did you just wake up?”  
  
“Yes,” I admit.  
  
“Bet your mother loved that. She seemed ill at ease over something this morning.”  
  
I sigh, and debate whether or not I should tell Peeta about Effie Trinkett. I suppose there would be no point in hiding it, since the cat would be out of the bag once she showed up anyhow. The question is more of whether or not I’m ready to tell him yet. “She did scold me,” is all I end up telling him.  
  
Peeta raises an eyebrow. “What for?”  
  
I feel my cheeks grow warm. “For... for not sitting up straight. Because I’m sore. She said it’s not very ladylike.”  
  
“If she only knew, huh?” I roll my eyes, but he’s smiling gently as me, his clear blue eyes bright as he looks me over. And I find that I can’t help returning his smile. My eyes drop and I notice the soft orange shirt he’s wearing. It’s one that I’ve never seen before.  
  
“Is that new?”  
  
He glances down at it. “Yes. It just arrived yesterday. My sister-in-law sent it.”  
  
It’s my turn to raise an eyebrow. He’s never mentioned that he had a sister-in-law before. “Your brother is married?”  
  
“Yes,” he smiles. “To my childhood best friend, Delly.”  
  
“So that’s why she’s sending you shirts.”  
  
“More or less,” he agrees. “Since my mother is gone, there was no one else to really look after me when I went to war. So she took it on herself to make sure I got my wool shirts.”  
  
“Why did she marry your brother?” I can’t stop the question from spilling out of my mouth. But Peeta only laughs.  
  
“Instead of me, you mean?” he grins. “Delly always had her eyes on my brother, that’s why. It was never anything more between us. We tried, once - I attempted to court her, thinking it made sense. But there was nothing. She’s like a sister to me. And now she is my sister.” His eyes twinkle as he regards me thoughtfully.  
  
“When they first married, I noticed she walked around a little oddly herself - not too differently than you are. When I finally figured it out, I couldn’t look her in the eye for weeks.”  
  
I laugh. “Not really.”  
  
“Really,” he laughs along with me. “I guess the Mellark men know how to stoke fires as well,” he grins at me, then tries to duck as I playfully hit him on his arm. “Now you’re hitting me? That’s disturbing the peace.”  
  
“How so?”  
  
“Because I’m here to uphold it, and you’re beating up on me. I could have you arrested for that, you know.”  
  
I roll my eyes at him, but I’m grinning. Peeta slips his hand into mine. “I’m afraid I’ll have to keep an eye on you now, miss. Normally I’d put you in cuffs, but they appear to have not given me any. So I’ll have to keep your hand in mine instead. Maybe for the rest of the day.”  
  
“What kind of army doesn’t properly equip their soldiers with the necessary supplies to do their job?” I ask with a smile.  
  
“The kind dedicated to making peace with its opposing side. Which I’m very dedicated to, by the way. That’s why I need to lavish so much time on you. For peace.” He pulls me to him and kisses me, then smiles as he rests his forehead against mine when we break apart. “What do you think? Is making peace in the future, Miss Everdeen?”  
  
“I don’t know,” I say with an air of superiority. “What if I don’t want to throw my lot in with your kind?”  
  
Peeta laughs and kisses me again. “Does that help? I can try and convince you all day if I need to. Did I mention how dedicated I am to this?”  
  
“I think you did mention it, yes,” I smile as he leans in again. All this kissing is making me a little light-headed, and I find myself leaning into him for support. He lets my hand go, bringing his arms up to circle around my waist, which pulls me further to him. I’m just wrapping my arms around his neck when he breaks us apart.  
  
“Any closer?”  
  
“Maybe you Yankees aren’t so bad,” I smile against his mouth. He’s just starting to kiss me again when something makes my ears pique and I pull back. Peeta jerks to a halt and looks at me, his eyes questioning. He opens his mouth to talk, but I silence him with a motion and strain my ears to listen.  
  
Wordlessly, I break free from his grasp and immediately make my way back up to the house just in time to see a buggy pulling up to the front porch. I come to a stop and watch as a man emerges. Plump isn’t really the word to describe him. He’s the widest man that I’ve seen since, well, before the war at least. He walks with a certain assurance to his step as he climbs the steps up and raps on the door.  
  
My feet begin to move again as I close the remaining distance between the house and myself. The man is still waiting at the door for an answer when I finally reach the stairs and begin to climb up. “May I help you?” I ask, not even attempting a hospitable mask. He starts, not having heard me arrive behind him I suppose. My tread, which was already quiet to begin with, has only become more silent since I’ve started hunting.  
  
The man hides any sense of having been startled well, though. Offering me the largest smile he possibly can, he removes his hat and sweeps downward in an over-exaggerated bow. “Good morning, Miss. Would you be the lady of the house?”  
  
“No,” I tell him, frowning, though I’m already wondering if allowing this much is a mistake. Maybe it would be better if I told him  I am. Then I could quickly end whatever scheme he may be up to.   
  
“Ah. You must be one of the beautiful Everdeen daughters I’ve heard so much about, then. You every bit live up to the reputation that precedes you,” he tells me, his slippery smile somehow growing even wider. I only frown at him, raising an eyebrow. When it’s clear I won’t be saying anything, he opens his mouth to continue, but I’m saved when the door opens at last.  
  
Mama and Haymitch are both standing on the other side. Mama looks surprised at the sight of our company, but she easily disguises it with one of her most practiced welcoming smiles. Haymitch just stares.  
  
The man turns towards them and offers the same ridiculous bow he gave me. “Ah. Good morning,” he says, directing his words primarily towards Haymitch. “The man of the house, I presume?”  
  
Haymitch belts out a laugh. “Not me,” he explains. “I’m just a guest here. She’s the one you want,” he jabs a thumb in Mama’s direction.  
  
The man doesn’t miss a beat. “So sorry, Ma’am. Mrs. Everdeen, then?” Mama nods. “I was just speaking to your lovely daughter. You’ve done quite a good job raising her, I can tell.” He’s smooth-talking her, that much is clear. Nothing about our brief exchange would make anyone think I had made such a good impression as a hostess.  
  
But Mama meets every ounce of his charm with her own. “Thank you, Mr...”  
  
“Heavensbee,” he says with a tip of his hat. “Plutarch Heavensbee.”  
  
“Then thank you, Mr. Heavensbee. What might I do for you?”  
  
“I have a business proposition I would like to speak to you about. Might I come in?”  
  
“Of course,” Mama says graciously, and steps aside to allow him entrance. He takes it without a moment’s hesitation, and I follow. Taking his coat and hat, Mama guides him into the parlor. “After you,” he motions to a chair, and sits down after her. Haymitch takes a seat next to her, while I stand on guard at the door.  
  
“First, might I say that this is wonderful property you have here. Why, I’ve never seen anything quite like it up north.”  
  
Haymitch raises an eyebrow. “Up north, you say?”  
  
“That’s right,” Plutarch Heavensbee nods eagerly, “that’s where I’m from. Denver City, to be precise.” Haymitch says nothing, but Mama kind of tilts her head. “You’ve come a long way to pay us a visit, then. Would you care for some tea?”  
  
“Oh, no, no! Well... maybe a little.” Mama nods at me, and I hurry out to prepare the tea as quickly as possible, hurrying back to the parlor as soon as I’m finished. I don’t think I want to miss a word of this.   
  
They’re still chit-chatting when I make it back and hand him over his tea. Plutarch is asking about the neighborhood, what it was like during the war, expressing gushing admiration for how we managed to make it through. He asks a couple more questions about the acreage of the plantation, when Mama finally cuts to the chase.  
  
“And what brings you to our humble plantation, Mr. Heavensbee? Reconstruction?”  
  
“Something along those lines,” he grins. “I’m here to make an offer on your property.”  
  
There’s a silence that falls on the room. Mama looks at Plutarch Heavensbee seriously; Haymitch is unreadable. I, on the other hand, feel heat begin to rise in me as I ball my hands into fists and frown.  
  
“That’s... that’s very kind,” Mama begins. “But we aren’t for sale.”  
  
“Well, now, hear me out,” he says as he raises a hand to silence her. “You haven’t heard my offer yet.”   
  
“And what would that be?” Haymitch asks gruffly.  
  
Finally, Plutarch Heavensbee grows serious. “One thousand dollars. Up front. Not in greybacks, mind you, but authentic federal reserve greenbacks.”  
  
“We’re not for sale.” All eyes in the room turn to me. Mama is probably going to chastise me once more for speaking out of turn again, but I’m so angered over this Yankee thinking he can come in here and just take away our land that I can’t help myself.  
  
“Katniss...” Mama begins in a warning tone.   
  
“We’re not!” I shoot back at her with a glare. “This is our plantation! What will we even do without it?” I’m about to storm out of there when a warning look from her makes me freeze in my spot.  
  
“Perhaps you should go,” she nods politely at Plutarch Heavensbee.   
  
“But I don’t think you understand what a good offer this i-”  
  
“Go,” Haymitch says, and for the first time I feel the slightest hint of gratefulness that he’s here. But Mama only gives him a look as well, that suggests that she really doesn’t know what she’s going to do with either of us for having such bad manners. Haymitch ignores her.  
  
“I’m very sorry, Mr. Heavensbee,” she turns back to him. “But we just aren’t ready to make a decision on anything yet. We will let you know if we decide to sell, though.”  
  
Plutarch Heavensbee looks agitated for a brief second, before recovering with one of his smooth smiles. “I understand completely, Ma’am,” he says. “You can find me at the Odair property if you so wish. I hope you do.” He rises, bows once more to her. “It was ever so nice to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Everdeen. Mr...”  
  
“Abernathy,” Haymitch says.  
  
“Mr. Abernathy,” he repeats. Then he walks towards the exit, stopping when he reaches me. He reaches for my hand and brings it up to his lips, planting a kiss on the back of it. It’s everything I can do not to wrench it out of his grasp; when he lets go, though, I make no attempt to hide that I wipe it off on my skirts.   
  
“I am sorry if I upset you, Miss Everdeen,” he smiles at me. “I hope you understand that it was just a business offer. No offense was intended.” I only scowl at him, so he bids me good afternoon. Mama is up, offering to get his coat and hat for him, and she glares at me as she passes by me. Haymitch and I remain in the room, silent, while we listen for the final sounds of Plutarch Heavensbee rolling away in his carriage, and Mama joins us again.  
  
Wordlessly, she sinks onto the sofa, her eyes closed and fingers rubbing her temples. When at last she speaks, it’s in slow, measured words as though she’s trying with all of her being to keep her patience.  
  
“Katniss. I’m really not sure what’s gotten into you lately-”  
  
“He’s trying to steal our property from us!” I burst at last. “After everything, they want to take the only thing we have left!”  
  
“He only made an offer to buy it, Katniss, don’t be ridiculous. Your behavior, on the other hand, has become deplorable. What’s gotten into you? Do you think a proper lady would-”  
  
“Oh, who cares?” I snap. “Being a lady isn’t going to put food on the table, or keep the Yankees from taking our land away!” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Haymitch raise an eyebrow, but I ignore him. Mama sits straight, and matches my glare squarely with one of her own.  
  
“Seeing to the affairs of the estate has always been the man’s job, Katniss. We have Haymitch here now to see to that. You must concern yourself with your wedding, remember? Your job is to be a proper wife for Gale.”  
  
Ugh. Somehow in the midst of everything, I managed to forget completely about that. Add that to the list of things for me to worry about. But now is certainly not the time to break the news that I don’t intend to marry Gale any longer, so instead I keep my mouth closed and glower at her.  
  
I don’t know if she notices, but if she does, she simply chooses to ignore it, instead turning to Haymitch. “What did you think of the offer?” she asks him, regaining her composure once more. Haymitch leans back, arms crossed. He lets out a long breath and glances at me before he answers. “It’s not a bad offer,” he says.   
  
I let out a frustrated noise, but Mama remains steady. “Would you accept it?”  
  
“I don’t know,” he admits. “If I could afford the taxes on the land, maybe not.”  
  
“We’ve been making them so far,” I say crossly. But Haymitch’s expression turns into one so grave, it makes my stomach drop.  
  
“So far, maybe,” he starts slowly. “But word is going around they’re going to raise again. Significantly.”   
  
There’s a hush that falls over the room, Mama looking as uneasy as I feel. In a quiet voice, Mama asks, “Would you sell, then?”  
  
Haymitch says nothing at first. Then slowly nods. “I might.”  
  
I feel that anger rising in me again. Furious, my hands roll into fists once more, and without another word, I stomp out of the room. No one makes any attempt to stop me this time.  
  
Somehow I find myself in the kitchen. I’m still angry, but the only thing I can think to do is begin preparing supper - even if it is still a bit too early. At least it will get my mind off of things, and, fortunately, Mama and Haymitch at least have the decency not to lecture or harass me this time.   
  
But I’m still angry some time later, when Peeta strolls into the kitchen with an armful of kindling. He says nothing, but I can feel him watching me. I hear him carefully lay the timber out in its place next to the fireplace. Then there’s nothing but the sound of my knife as I chop through the rabbit I intend to turn into a stew. I don’t turn to see if he’s still there.   
  
“What happened?” I hear his voice cut through the silence at last. I’m embarrassed by the little jump I give - I guess I was so caught up in everything, I had almost forgotten he was there. Or maybe I wasn’t sure if he had left. I don’t answer at first, because I’m trying to find a way to tell him without doing something stupid like crying.  
  
“Katniss?” he urges gently. “Who was that man? What did he want?”  
  
“To buy the place,” I say simply.  
  
Silence. Then, “What?”  
  
I let out a sigh. “He wanted to buy the place. He offered us a lot of money - in federal reserve dollars, not just Confederate currency.”   
  
Another beat. “Did you take it?”  
  
“No!” I practically shout. I spin around and face him, and Peeta braces himself at the sight of how angry I am. “Why? Do you think we should sell, too?”  
  
“I didn’t say that,” he assures me. “I was just curious.” Then my words sink in. “Why? Does your mother want to sell?”  
  
“No. I don’t know,” I sigh. “She was too nice to him.”  
  
“Too nice?” He says with a laugh. “Did you want her to shoot him or something?”  
  
“It would have been an improvement,” I frown at him. He chuckles, and moves to take me in his arms, kissing me on my forehead. I relent for a moment, the feel of his arms wrapped around me protectively comforting. Then I shrug them off.  
  
“Not here,” I tell him quietly. “It’s too risky.”  
  
He sighs, frustrated, but says nothing more on the manner. “Are you afraid she’s going to sell after all?” he asks instead.  
  
“I don’t know,” I fold my arms and look off to the side. “We-” I stop myself. I don’t want to even say it out loud, it’s so awful. Maybe if I don’t say it, it will somehow go away.  
  
“We what?” Of course, Peeta would want to know. So I steel myself, and tell him anyway.  
  
“We might have to. If we can’t make the payment on the tax raise.”  
  
He doesn’t say anything for a while, taking it in. I can see almost see him turning the information over in his mind. “They’re raising the taxes?” he asks at last, his voice quiet; serious.  
  
“That’s what Haymitch says,” I nod.   
  
Peeta shifts his weight and looks at me thoughtfully. “What?” I ask, maybe a little more defensively than I intend.  
  
“You’ll find a way,” he smiles at me. “You always do.”  
  
But I can only frown, despite his encouraging words. “What if I can’t this time, Peeta? What if those dirty Yankees raise it so high, we have no choice but to sell our home?”  
  
His whole body tenses, and the smile drops from his face. “Dirty Yankees, huh?”  
  
I don’t know how it’s possible, but my eyebrows furrow even more, my frown growing deeper. “You know what I mean,” I snap at him as I brush past him to start feeding the fire. Another silence, and I can practically feel Peeta struggling to choose his next words. I try and empty my mind, using the poker to stir up the embers in the flames.   
  
“I understand,” he says at last in an even voice. “You don’t want to lose your home.” I just keep stirring the fire, watching the sparks fly. The harder I move it, the higher they go. “Be careful. You don’t want to start a fire,” he adds.  
  
I don’t know why, but this irritates me further. “I know how to handle a fire,” I snap. “I’ve lived here my whole life, remember?”  
  
“I didn’t mean it that way,” he sighs. “Don’t take this out on me. Or am I at fault automatically for being a ‘Dirty Yankee’ as well?”  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I mutter.  
  
“Well, how else should I take that, Katniss? I thought you were joking with that comment earlier about not all Yankees being bad-”  
  
“I was!”  
  
“You weren’t! You clearly feel that way. Is that the real reason you won’t do anything about your relationship with Mr. Hawthorne?” I give an extra hard stroke to the embers, causing the flames to dance higher than might be safe. “Too ashamed to admit you’ve been fraternizing with a Yankee?”  
  
I give the fire the hardest poke yet for emphasis before I spin around and meet his glare. “How can you even say that?” I spit out at him.  
  
“Pretty easily, considering you just shoved me away from you moments ago because you didn’t want to be caught with me in public.”  
  
“Because I’m engaged!” I all but yell at him. “Don’t you know how much danger you’ll be in if this isn’t played exactly right?”   
  
“Katniss...”  
  
I ignore him, and press on. “You could be hanged, Peeta! They could put together a lynch mob and go after you if they suspect this was anything other than an honorable courtship!”  
  
“Katniss!”  
  
“What?!” I snap. And then I smell the smoke, and turn around just in time to see the flames engulfing the nearby table. Instantly, Peeta is shoving me out of the way and trying to put the fire out by any means necessary. Wasting no time, I run out and fetch the others, and Haymitch ends up running in to help him. Thinking fast, I run outside, going as fast as my legs will carry me until I reach the well. Immediately, I fling a bucket down, then pull it back up as soon as I feel it’s full of water.  
  
I struggle with my pace on my way back, but finally make it into the kitchen. The fire has grown since I left, but Peeta and Haymitch are working together to squelch it as quickly as possible. Haymitch spots me first. “Hand it over, girl,” he mutters roughly at me, snatching the bucket from my hands. He immediately throws it over the fire, Peeta stepping out of the way just in time.   
  
Half the kitchen is drenched, the surface where the fire had been now charred and black. But fortunately, it was small enough that the one bucket of water, combined with the efforts of Haymitch of Peeta, were able to put it out entirely. Peeta lowers himself into a chair, panting. Haymitch rears around on me.  
  
“What happened?” he demands.  
  
I can only gape at him for a minute. My eyes flicker from him to the fireplace to Peeta, then back to him again. “I wasn’t paying attention,” I mumble.  
  
“Clearly,” he says. “You could have burned this whole place down. Lucky for you the Yankee boy was nearby when it happened.” Something about the way he says it tells me he knows it wasn’t just a coincidence that Peeta was here. But he doesn’t voice his suspicions, fortunately. Maybe he knows it’s too risky, with Mama so close by. Not that I think Haymitch is doing us any favors.  
  
Mama and Prim have joined us by now. Prim walks over and takes my hand in hers. Mama asks what happened. “Your daughter got a little distracted,” is all Haymitch says. “The kid here caught it in time and put it out.”  
  
Mama looks over at Peeta curiously. “Is that true, Mr. Mellark?” Peeta nods.  
  
“Then we owe you a great deal. Thank you, both for saving our house and my daughter’s life.”  
  
Peeta smiles one of his sweet smiles at her. “Of course,  Ma’am.” She asks if he’s hurt, but he waves her off and insists he’s fine. But I see the blank look in his eyes when he wordlessly leaves the room a few minutes later. I let him go, because I don’t know if he wants me around, and because Mama is both fussing over and lecturing me before assigning Prim to help me finish the rest of supper.  
  
He shows up again for supper, offering me a sad smile when he sees me. But he mainly pokes at his food and remains quiet. Afterwards, he disappears into his room early. He doesn’t answer when I knock on his door later that night.  
  
I don’t see him the next morning, either. He doesn’t even show up for breakfast. I want to ask where he is, but I’m too afraid any question I ask will immediately arouse suspicion. Fortunately, I don’t have to. Mama herself comments on his lack of appearance.  
  
“Has he been out here at all?” I ask cautiously.  
  
“I haven’t seen him,” she says. “I wonder if he isn’t feeling well?” She clucks her tongue in concern, and then begins to ramble on about all the things that need to be done that day, but I’m not listening because my mind is on Peeta.  
  
Later, when everyone is distracted and I finally have my chance, I sneak down the hallway. I glance over my shoulder stealthily, before slipping into his room. Judging by the lump in the middle of bed, it looks like Peeta hasn’t gotten out of it yet.  
  
“Peeta,” I whisper. When he doesn’t answer, I move closer to the bed. “Peeta,” I try again, and this time I see him lift his head.   
  
“Katniss?”   
  
“Yes,” I answer as I sit down gently beside him. “Why are you still in bed?”  
  
He doesn’t answer.  
  
“Peeta?” I urge him.  
  
“I’m just tired,” he tells me. I frown.  
  
“Are you feeling all right?” I ask him, and I smooth his hair away with the back of my hand before pressing it to his forehead. It feels cool; there’s not even a hint of a fever. “You don’t feel warm.”  
  
“I’m not sick,” he says. “Just tired.”  
  
“Did you sleep well?”  
  
I watch the steady rise and fall of his chest in the silence before he answers. “I don’t know,” he answers at last.  
  
My brows furrow. How can he not know? I begin stroking his hair back from his eyes, hoping it’s soothing in some way.   
  
“Don’t worry about it,” he says crossly. “You can go if you’re worried about being caught with the dirty Yankee.” He turns away from me so that he’s lying on his back.  
  
“Peeta...”  
  
He doesn’t answer. I can feel anger rising in me, but I try to push it down again. Somehow, I instinctively know now is not the time for that. Instead, I lean forward and kiss him on his forehead. He closes his eyes, and maybe I’m imagining it, but I think I can feel him relax a little under my touch.   
  
“Thank you for fighting the fire yesterday,” I murmur. I watch him for a few more minutes, before I quietly stand to leave. But Peeta surprises me by grabbing my arm and holding onto it. When I turn back around he’s looking up at me with an expression so sad it creates a knot in my stomach.  
  
Without a word, I slip into the bed next to him and hold him against me, kissing away his tears.   
**  
**


	6. Chapter 6

It takes some time for Peeta’s tears to subside, but after much soothing he finally calms. We lay pressed together, me holding Peeta’s head against me as I gently run my fingers through his hair in what I hope is a comforting gesture. Each creak and footstep I hear passing by the door has me on edge, not sure what I’ll do if anyone were to come in and catch us like this -- though this is nothing compared to some of the other things that we could’ve been caught doing.  
  
“What’s wrong?” I ask him quietly as I kiss him on his forehead, stroking the hair out of his eyes. He doesn’t answer. “Peeta?” I ask again. This isn’t like him.  
  
Peeta sighs, and turns over on his back. “I don’t know,” he tells me in a flat voice.  
  
I frown at this. I know he’s said it before, but how can he not know? Surely there has to be something he can say is bothering him. How can I help him if he can’t?  
  
“Is it your head?” I try. He shakes it.  
  
“Does it hurt anywhere else?”  
  
He doesn’t answer for a long time, his eyes seemingly focused on some invisible object on the ceiling. Then he says, “It doesn’t hurt anywhere. Not physically.”  
  
“Not physically?” I repeat, trying to make sense of his words. “What does that mean?”  
  
“I don’t know, Katniss,” and for the first time he sounds annoyed with me. “I can’t explain it to you.”  
  
It makes me angry to have him talk to me like that. “I’m just trying to help,” I snap back at him. He sighs again, much louder, and covers his eyes with the palms of his hands. “I know,” he admits. “I’m sorry.”  
  
I keep frowning at him, but Peeta continues. “It’s just... I hurt on the inside. Does that make sense?”  
  
“A little. Do you mean your heart?”  
  
Peeta smiles at me mournfully. “Something like that.”  
  
“I’m want to help, Peeta,” I say, growing more irritated by the moment. “I can’t do that if you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”  
  
His smile falls from his face. “I know,” he says, looking haunted. I wait several long moments for him to say more, but he surprises me by sitting up, his face abruptly back to his usual easy-going expression. “Let’s get going,” he tells me. “I have stuff I need to do today anyway.”  
  
I stare at him, but he just offers me a smile. “Thank you for trying to help,” he says as he gives me a kiss.  
  
“Are you sure you’re okay now?” I ask, looking at him incredulously.   
  
He nods, but doesn’t meet my eyes as he climbs out of bed and begins dressing in his Union uniform. “It’s fine. Go ahead. I’ll see you later.”  
  
I stare at him, but when he says nothing more, I slip carefully out the door after making sure no one else is around. Peeta leaves shortly after, off on some Yankee business doing who knows what. And I really have no idea, because he never tells me anything about what he’s doing. I guess if he wanted me to know, he would tell me. Maybe it’s better if I don’t know.  
  
Either way, he doesn’t return home until well after supper. He smiles when he sees me, but he doesn’t say goodnight before retiring for the evening. I think about checking on him after stoking the fires that night, but decide against it.   
  
My night is both restless and dreamless. I toss and turn in my bed, imagining all kinds of terrible things that could happen to Peeta. At some point, lost in a world between consciousness and sleep, I even have a nightmare where he’s out on the battlefields again. Some doctor is insisting that the only way to deal with his ailment is to amputate his left leg. No matter how much Peeta protests, they insist on the procedure. His screams are enough to jolt me back awake. But even now, I can still hear his screams ringing through my mind.   
  
No, that’s not right.  
  
I sit up in my bed, fully awake. Listen for a minute. Then I hear it. He really is yelling.  
  
Without a second thought, I’m out of my bed, not even bothering with a cover before I’m out in the hallway and down the stairs, my feet carrying me to his room as swiftly as possible. I stop once I’m at his door, think about knocking. But another yell lets me know it’d be a fruitless tactic, and so I just let myself in instead, somehow remembering to lock the door behind me.  
  
“Peeta!” I hiss, crawling into the bed beside him. I shake him as firmly as I dare. “Peeta, wake up!” I repeat over and over.  
  
Finally, his eyes open, and he looks groggily up at me. He’s also shaking violently. “Katniss?” he asks as he focuses on me. Then he shoots up. “What’s wrong?” He asks, his voice urgent and his eyes as wide as saucers. This panic isn’t like him.  
  
“You were having a nightmare,” I explain. “Everything is fine. I was just trying to wake you up from it.”  
  
“Oh,” is all he says. There’s a pause, and then he collapses back down to the bed. I start stroking his hair back, out of his eyes. He’s breathing hard, so I wait until he’s calmed before I say anything. He’s staring at the ceiling again, just as he did before. His eyes have a blank, vacant look to them. It’s as though he’s off in some faraway land, and he’s left me here to figure out how to get him back.  
  
Finally, he speaks. “I can’t stop seeing them.”  
  
“Seeing who?” I ask, because I have no idea who he’s talking about.  
  
There’s another pause. Then he says, “In the war. I can’t stop seeing everyone who... everyone who was hurt. Or worse,” he says the last part in such a small voice it gives me chills. His shaking has also worsened.   
  
“Peeta...” I start.  
  
“That’s why I can’t sleep. Because they come back to haunt me.”  
  
“How long has this been going on?” I ask.  
  
He takes a sharp breath in. “Since that day in the kitchen.”  
  
I nod, and look away. That’s exactly what I was afraid of. I force myself to look back at him. “The day of the fire?”  
  
“Yes,” he whispers.  
  
“Was it...” I gulp, and force myself to finish the question. “Was it because of our argument?” Now it’s my voice that’s small.  
  
“It was the fire,” he says plainly. “It was like Atlanta.”  
  
“Atlanta?” Now I’m really confused. What does Atlanta have to do with anything?  
  
He nods. “I was there.”  
  
Oh. So that’s what he’s talking about. Suddenly there’s a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach. “You were?” I ask.  
  
He nods again, looking guilty. “Sherman... he wasn’t a bad man. He had his reasons for it...” he lets out a troubled sigh. “But it was one of the worst things I’ve ever had to do. And that’s saying a lot.”  
  
I can’t think of anything to say to this. So instead, I pull the blanket back; settle down beside him in the bed. I pull him into my arms, where he easily folds his head against my neck. Then he wraps his arms around me tightly. There is nothing I can say, I decide, so instead I go back to smoothing his hair back and kissing him gently all across his face.   
  
“Will you sing?” I hear him ask after some time. It’s so quiet, I’m barely even sure he said it at all. I pull my head back and look at him. He’s looking at me so hopefully.   
  
“I can’t,” I whisper back. “I can’t do it. I’m sorry, Peeta.” And I really am. But it’s still too painful, too hard for me to bear the memories of my father that doing so would bring back. Peeta nods, trying not to look too disappointed. But I can tell he is. I feel awful, and for a second I reconsider trying. But I just can’t bring myself to do it.  
  
I lean in and kiss him deeply, then I hold him tighter to me. I end up staying with him so long, I fall asleep. I kick myself when I wake up some time later, still tangled up in his arms. I steal as quickly and silently back to my bedroom as possible, all the while praying I won’t be caught. But I return again that night. And the next night. And the one after that. It’s risky, even though we do nothing more than sleep. But Peeta seems to at least rest better having me in the bed with him. And truth be told, I do too.  
  
One morning as I’m on my way up, I notice that Haymitch is passed out on the sofa in the parlor. He’s probably been there the whole night, I realize, drunk from all the moonshine he inhales. An urge to dump icy cold water on his head rises in me. I grin at the thought -- the old man would deserve it, no doubt.   
  
When I’m dressed and back downstairs again, I’m surprised to see the spot he had been occupying is now vacant. It turns out he’s in the kitchen, having already gotten the morning coffee going.  
  
“I’m surprised to see you up,” I say as I brush past him to begin work on breakfast.  
  
“Oh? And why is that?” he asks gruffly.  
  
“I saw you passed out on the sofa in the parlor earlier,” I say in a matter of fact tone. “I don’t even know why we bother keeping a room for you, really, given your preference for sleeping out there.”  
  
He snorts. “That’s real funny, sweetheart. Notice that when you weren’t too caught up in your own preference for Yankees, did you?”  
  
I stiffen, then send a glare in his direction. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
  
Haymitch gives a short laugh. “I’m sure you don’t. How is the blond kid, anyway? He’s seems awfully quiet lately.”  
  
“How should I know?” I snap as I light the stove.  
  
Haymitch begins laughing uproariously. He’s so loud, I’m afraid he’s going to rouse the entire house. “Be quiet, would you?” I bark at him, but it only seems to make him laugh harder. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he says as he finally begins to quiet, though he’s still chuckling. “I won’t share your secret. Not that you do all that great a job keeping it yourself.”  
  
I frown at him, wondering if we’re really as obvious as he says we are. Then my shoulders slump, and I turn my face away. “I’ve noticed it, too,” I admit, trying to keep my voice even. “I wonder what’s wrong with him?”  
  
“Probably Soldier’s Heart,” he says. I turn to look at him, because I’ve never heard that expression before. But Haymitch is concentrating intently on the small bottle of liquid he’s pouring into his coffee. I open my mouth to press for more, but just then the door opens and in walks my mother. My opportunity is lost.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
There’s a knitting circle being held at the Odairs’ that afternoon. It’s the first one that’s really been held since the war. Knitting has never been a favorite task of mine, but it’ll be nice to experience something resembling normalcy for once. And I haven’t seen Finnick or Annie since the birth of their child.  
  
When I arrive, Annie greets me with a warm hug, then introduces me to her son who she’s balancing on one hip. She coos over him, just as any new mother would. Then she leads me inside to their parlor, where the group of women from the neighborhood are already gathered in a circle.  
  
I recognize all but one. An older woman, maybe somewhere around my mother’s age, sits in the spot next to Annie. Her hair is perfectly styled, her clothes neat and beautiful, and her poise elegant. She is the picture of everything a proper lady is supposed to be.  
  
She rises from her seat when she spots me entering the room, looking at Annie as if waiting for her to confirm something. Annie nods her head. “This is Katniss Everdeen. Katniss, Effie Trinket. This is Gale’s aunt.”  
  
“It’s so wonderful to meet you, dear!” She takes my hand graciously and holds it between her own two. “Gale and his mother have told me so much about you. I’m sure it’ll be a pleasure to have you as part of the family.”  
  
I smile, feeling nervous. I wonder if it’s true that Gale has told her much about me. He’s told me barely anything about her. Not that I was really listening, I guess. “It’s wonderful to meet you as well,” I tell her, offering what I hope is my most winning smile. She nods graciously, and we both take our places as the group resumes its knitting.   
  
It doesn’t take long before the usual chatter picks up. The ladies in our neighborhood are given to talking about anything and everything going on around the community. If there’s a juicy bit of gossip going around, you can be sure it’ll be discussed. It’s always made me a bit uncomfortable, truth be told. Not being very fond of small talk myself, I’ve always just nodded my head in agreement, and put a word in here and there. All the while wishing I could be out doing anything else. And now that I’m in the middle of a situation that would set the entire group ablaze with gossip if they knew about it, I find myself shifting weight in my chair often.  
  
Effie Trinket also adds an interesting new dynamic to the whole thing. Not being familiar with the names being dropped, she often stops us to ask a question about who that is, and what do they do. Then she clucks her tongue, shaking her head in disdain but never offering up anymore of her opinion. Maybe she feels it would be bad manners to do so. I get the feeling that manners mean everything to Effie.  
  
After about an hour, Finnick and Gale come in, having returned from their hunting excursion. They’re talking about something - I’m not sure what, but I hear Gale ask where something is going to be held.  
  
“At Snow’s house,” Finnick tells him. “I don’t know what to think yet, but I agree that something has to be done.” Then they stop when they notice us. Finnick flashes us a smile, the same one that used to make him so popular among all the ladies before he settled down with Annie. Even now, I can almost feel the admiration radiating off the other ladies in the room.  
  
Finnick is handsome, no doubt. But I can honestly say that I’ve never found him attractive. Growing up, he was more like a brother to me. Of course, so was Gale - the three of us were the best of friends as children. Pretty much inseparable. Before I had to begin acting more like a proper lady, at least, though even then our friendship remained intact.   
  
“I’m so sorry to disturb you, ladies,” Finnick says, maintaining his grin as he swoops down in an over-exaggerated bow. “My hunting partner and I will leave you in peace now.” There’s some giggling from some of the younger ladies present. Annie tries to give him her best reproachful look, but anyone can see she’s proud.  
  
Not much later, the knitting sits forgotten at the sides of most of the females in the room. Annie’s son has finally become too much for anyone to ignore - he’s now being passed around the room as everyone takes a turn fawning over him. It’s not that I don’t agree, or don't like children, but the prospect of being a mother has always made me nervous. So while I agree when I’m asked if I think he’s adorable, I hang back from the group in general. Besides, I’m distracted anyway.  
  
When I see Finnick leaning against the wall, arms crossed as he proudly watches the way everyone is reacting to his son, I put my knitting down and cross over to him.  
  
“Hello, Katniss,” he says with a grin. “He’s great, isn’t he?” He nods over towards the crowd.  
  
“Sure,” I say. “Where’s Gale?”  
  
“Out on a walk,” he says.  
  
“Oh,” I say. That seems a little out of place -- Gale doesn’t usually just take walks alone like that, and besides, he just got back from hunting with Finnick. But I cast it aside, making a mental note to ask him about it later. For a while, I stand there in silence with Finnick, watching him bask in the glow of being a new father. Then I decide to ask him the question that brought me over here in the first place.  
  
“What was the war like for you, Finnick?” I say, trying to sound casual.  
  
Finnick frowns at me. “Katniss, I don’t think that’s an appropriate thing for me to discuss with you...”  
  
“Why not?” I ask.  
  
He sighs. “Because that’s not a very appropriate topic of conversation for me to be having with a lady, that’s why. You shouldn’t be asking about it.”  
  
I roll my eyes. “But you’ve known me your whole life, Finnick. You say yourself that I’m more like a sister to you than anything. I’m not a lady to you-”  
  
“And that’s even worse, Katniss!” He interrupts. “You’re exactly like my little sister. I can’t tell you about that world without corrupting you. I just... can’t.”  
  
It’s a little late to be worrying about corrupting me, I think to myself, but I don’t tell him that. Instead I ask, “Was it really that bad?”  
  
Finnick casts his eyes downward. “It isn’t fun,” he admits.   
  
His words remind me of Peeta’s, that night he told me that war was hell. “Even when fighting for the Glorious Cause?” I ask, and even I can hear the bitterness in my tone.  
  
He studies me hard for a minute, then he shakes his head. “Yes,” he confesses. “It’s worse than it’s been made out to be. Why do you want to know all this, anyway?”  
  
I falter briefly as I search my mind for the best way to approach this. “Just... one of those soldiers we’ve been housing... he’s been acting strange lately, and Haymitch said something about it being something called ‘Soldier’s Heart.’”   
  
Finnick’s expression is unreadable as he nods. “Yes. I’ve heard of it. Some of the soldiers in my regiment were said to have it. But what do you care if one of those Yankees has it?”  
  
“I don’t,” I say quickly. Maybe even a little too quickly, because Finnick raises an eyebrow at me. “I was just... curious, that’s all. I didn’t think anyone else would tell me what it was, so I asked you.”   
  
“Katniss,” he begins, “I really don’t-” he stops when he sees the way I’m looking at him. Sighing, he glances around the room, probably to make sure no one is listening. “It’s a condition some soldiers were said to get from fighting,” he explains in a hushed tone.   
  
“I know,” I say, “but what is it?”  
  
He looks frustrated by my question, but he answers. “The doctors said it was a heart condition. Men would become sad and visibly upset. Shaking and other things, like wanting to go home. The ones I knew said they couldn’t get the images of the dying out of their heads.”   
  
I nod. “That makes sense.”  
  
Finnick gives me an odd look. “How does that make sense to you?”  
  
“Um...” I search my mind. “I just mean... because of what you told me. They were killing people out there.”  
  
He looks at me suspiciously, but he nods. “Yes. It was hard on everyone, but harder for some than others.”  
  
“Is there... is there anything they can do to treat it?” I ask quietly, afraid of what his answer will be.  
  
Finnick only shrugs. “I don’t know. Some were given things like morphine, but I don’t know if that did anything. Must have, because they couldn’t stop using it.”  
  
Now I nod, as I look down in concentration. Is that what Peeta needs? Morphine? But how would I be able to get any of that for him if it is? He would need to get to a doctor somehow. And I don’t know how that works for a Union soldier. Do they have their own? They must. I don’t think I could get the local doctor to look at him without raising too much suspicion, even if he did want to help a Yankee.  
  
“Does it sound like that fits your Yankee houseguest at all?” Finnick, who I realize has been watching while I turned this over in my mind, interrupts my thoughts.   
  
“They all do,” I say without thinking. “I couldn’t get him to stop shaking the other day, when-” I stop, my eyes growing wide as I realize what I just said. Finnick’s brows are raised at me curiously.  
  
“Oh. You were helping?” he asks. I drop my eyes to the floor. “Doesn’t he have other soldiers there who can help him?”  
  
“Yes,” I admit, even though it’s not true. None of those other soldiers would be willing to help Peeta with this, except maybe for Thresh.  
  
“So why were you helping?”  I say nothing, still not meeting his eyes. “Katniss?” Then I feel my cheeks grow warm, and I know the game has been given away. Finnick, who knows me so well, will know why I’m blushing.   
  
I hear him let out a slow whistle as he shakes his head. “Katniss,” he says in disbelief, and maybe a little disappointment. “What’re you doing with the Yankee?”  
  
I scowl at him, immediately growing defensive. “He’s not a bad person!” I tell him.  
  
Finnick just raises his brow higher as he takes me in for a long moment. Finally, he speaks. “You’re in love with him.”  
  
I don’t answer. I don’t even look at him. I can’t.  
  
“Does Gale know?” His voice is serious.  
  
“No,” I whisper, slightly shaking my head and still unable to meet his eyes.  
  
“I thought so. He would have said something,” he says. “What are you planning on doing, Katniss?”  
  
Finally, I lift my gaze up to his. “I’m going to tell him!” I insist. “I mean... I mean...” My tongue is tied, but Finnick looks at me expectantly while I try to sort my thoughts out. My mind is racing, trying to come up with the best way to explain this to him. But everything I can think of only makes the whole thing sound worse.  
  
“Which one is it, anyway?” Finnick finally asks.  
  
“Peeta,” I tell him. “The blond one living with us since last year.”  
  
Finnick nods, then the corners of his mouth lift almost involuntarily. “Wait. Forget Gale - does Peeta know how you feel about him?”  
  
“Yes,” I admit.  
  
He laughs. “Of course he does. He’d have to have practically kissed you outright to get you to know what you’re feeling for him.” I cringe a little at his words, since they’re more true than he can ever know.  Still, I can’t help scowling at him as well.   
  
“So I take it you’ve talked this over, then? And he feels the same way about you?”  
  
“Yes,” I say with a nod. “He wants to court me and marry me properly.”  
  
“That’s good,” Finnick says slowly. “There could be a lot of trouble around here if he had no intention of making an honorable woman out of you. Of course, you’ll also have trouble just because he’s a Yankee.”  
  
“I know,” I sigh. “And there’s Gale. I don’t want to hurt him, either.”  
  
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. It’s not like he hasn’t been carrying a torch for Madge Undersee all these years.”  
  
I look at him in shock; he greets my surprised expression with one of his one. “You mean you didn’t know?”  
  
“No,” I shake my head. This was news to me.   
  
“Since we were thirteen,” he continues. “Along with all the other boys, of course. Couldn’t work up the courage to talk to her until it was too late.”  
  
It makes sense. Madge was always popular with the boys in the neighborhood, being the daughter of one of the most successful plantation owners around. If they weren’t taken in by her looks, then they were taken by the fortune she was due to inherit. It made all the other girls green with envy to see all the attention she would get, but I never really minded. Madge was always friendly with me. Which makes the fact that I had no idea how Gale felt about her all the more strange.  
  
“Sorry, Katniss,” he says sympathetically. “I thought you knew. I suppose it makes sense that you didn’t, though.” I nod, not sure what to think. It’s certainly freeing to know this, but at the same time, I can’t help feeling a bit... hurt. Because Gale and I have been friends our whole lives, and because he asked me to marry him. That’s not being fair on my part, though; even I can see how hypocritical it is for me to be upset with him over this.   
  
“Just promise me you’ll be careful, Katniss,” Finnick says with a pat on the shoulder, his lips curved downward as he walks over to where Annie and their child sit.  
  
  
  
  
  
When the knitting circle breaks up later that afternoon, I go to retrieve my yarn and needles, planning on ducking out quietly, when Gale corners me.  
  
“Let me give you a ride home,” he says.  
  
I bite my lip and shake my head. “I’m fine walking,” I tell him. I’m not ready to spend much time with him yet after what Finnick told me. I need to sort out my thoughts.  
  
“Don’t be silly, Katniss. I have room in my buggy for you. And it’ll give you a chance to get to know Aunt Effie.”  
  
This makes me frown, because getting to know Effie Trinket is last on the list of things I want to do. It’s bad enough that I’ll have to put up with her for the time until I can call off the engagement with Gale. I don’t exactly want to make an early start of it, which all the more motivates me not to accept his offer for a ride.  
  
His hand is on my elbow, trying to hold me in place, to convince me to go with him, but I just shake it off. “I want to walk,” I insist. “It’s nice out.”  
  
Gale searches my face. “All right,” he concedes at last and turns me loose. “Will I still see you for supper tomorrow night?”  
  
“Sure,” I say half-heartedly over my shoulder as I walk out the front door.  
  
I’m just rounding the corner onto the main road, when I hear somebody calling my name. I turn and see Madge hurrying towards me. “Are you heading home?” she asks when she gets closer. I nod. “Let’s walk together, then,” she says.  
  
I’d rather not, but considering Madge’s home is on the way back to mine, I don’t see how I can get out of it. So I agree, however reluctantly. Fortunately, Madge has always been a quiet person, and we make most of the journey in a comfortable silence. Then I hear her clear her throat.  
  
“So...” she starts. “You’ll be marrying Gale, soon, won’t you?” And for the first time, I think I detect an uncomfortable edge to her tone that I’d never noticed before.   
  
“That’s right,” I mumble. When I don’t continue, she gives me a sideways glance.  
  
“Are you excited for your wedding?”  
  
“Yes.” It’s a lie, but to say anything else would be revealing too much.  
  
She lets out a sigh so small that it almost couldn’t be heard. “You don’t sound excited. Don’t you want to marry Gale? He’ll make a wonderful husband.”  
  
I have to stop myself from smiling, which surprises me. I glance over at her, and I can see the look of longing on her face. My heart hurts for her at the sight of it, and for a moment I consider telling her everything - how I know how Gale feels about her, that I can see she feels for him in return; that it’s fine if they want to be together because I have Peeta anyway. But I don’t say any of it. Instead, I agree and we walk the remainder of the trip in a far less comfortable silence.  
  
“Goodbye, Katniss,” she calls as she heads up the pathway to her house. I wave goodbye, then finish the rest of the journey deep in thought.  
  
I’m making my way back up to my own house, when I notice the figure sitting on the steps to the porch. It’s Peeta, looking small, framed against the giant house behind him. He’s hunched over; most likely drawing, I realize. My heartbeat picks up, wondering if this is a good sign. I haven’t seen him draw in I don’t know how many days. Cautiously, like I would a wounded animal, I move towards him.  
  
Peeta glances up a bit when he hears me coming, but doesn’t look me in the eyes. “You’re drawing,” I say, coming to a stop just in front of him.  
  
He nods, but doesn’t say anything. I edge a little closer. “Are you feeling any better?”  
  
“A bit,” he says, not breaking his gaze away from his sketching. “How was the knitting circle?”  
  
I pause as the events of the day come back to me: meeting Gale’s aunt Effie for the first time, learning about Soldier’s Heart from Finnick. Learning about Gale and Madge, which maybe could be my way out from that whole engagement. I don’t know what to start with, or if telling him any of it is even a good idea. So instead I just tell him, “It went well.”  
  
Again he nods, and again he says nothing. So I move closer still, until I’m right in front of the step. Then, after working my courage up for a minute, I sit down next to him and slowly reach for his hand, weaving my fingers between his.  
  
Peeta snaps his head up, and looks down at our entwined hands. Then finally he looks up at me. “We could be caught like this, you know,” he says flatly.  
  
I swallow, pushing down all the fears threatening to overtake me. “I know.”  
  
Once more, Peeta doesn’t say anything. But after a second, the corners of his mouth lift into a small smile. He gives my hand a squeeze and goes back to drawing.  
  
 **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, for all those who have been eagerly waiting, this is the beginning of the end of Katniss's and Gale's engagement. The breakup will take place over the course of the next three chapters. I know a lot (all?) of you have been anticipating this part of the story - we're almost there!
> 
> And a couple of history notes here: 'Soldier's Heart' was a term often used for PTSD in soldiers during the Civil War, which is what Peeta is experiencing. His mentions of Atlanta are also referring to the Atlanta Campaign in 1864, which ended with General Sherman's orders to burn Atlanta in a move to take down the city, weakening the Confederate Army in the process. The event was the start of Sherman's March to the Sea, a major play that helped secure victory for the Union.


	7. Chapter 7

******** ** **

 

The kitchen is warm and sweltering one afternoon as Mama, Prim and I are all crowded together in it putting together a meal. Finnick and Annie, along with their baby boy, have been invited over for the afternoon, and thanks to the hunting I’m somehow still managing to get in, we have enough for a decent-sized meal. We’re having wild chicken, a lucky gift I was fortunate enough to stumble upon as I was about to leave the woods just yesterday.  
  
I’m sitting on a chair in the corner, plucking the feathers out of it, while Prim chops vegetables and Mama rolls out dough. We’ve been busy all morning at it, since this is the first time we’ve had any real guests since Christmas. It’s been too much just keeping this place afloat to deal with anything like that. But since my small skill with a bow has improved little by little over the months, we feel at last like we can do something to relax a little. If you can call making a big to do to prepare for guests relaxing.  
  
I pluck, since out of all of us, I’m the least uncomfortable with preparing the hen. In the past, this is the sort of job that would usually have been done by one of the kitchen servants. But since they’re now all gone, it’s up to me to do it. I don’t mind, though. Doing it allows me to feel a little more like myself, especially now that Effie Trinket has officially begun her mission to groom me to be a proper wife.  
  
It’s been about a week since the lessons started. Every afternoon, she’s over here with some sort of lecture on proper etiquette, a word on how a lady ought to conduct herself, a tip on good manners. The first day, she did a thorough assessment of everything. And I don’t mean just me, either. She inspected the entire house. She seemed visibly disturbed at the sight of Peeta and the other soldiers stationed here. Haymitch’s presence didn’t do much to comfort her.  
  
Mama has been pretty tense since this whole thing started, too. I don’t think she’s taken too well to the implications of what Effie Trinket’s presence in our house mean. And I can’t help feeling a little bad, as if I’ve failed her somehow. After all, it’s my behavior that’s caused this.  
  
Peeta doesn’t seem too thrilled either, though it’s for different reasons. I can tell he’s trying to not let it bother him, though. Ever since that afternoon with him on the porch, he has at least seemed more assured with me. He is still trying to handle this Soldier’s Heart, but every night when I go to him, he welcomes me into his bed with no fuss, holding me close to him tightly.  And every day, he’s improving. In fact, after he jokingly referred to me as ‘sweetheart’ this morning, imitating Haymitch just to tease me, I realized he seemed so much more like his old self than he had in days.  
  
I haven’t told him yet about what Finnick told me. I will, but I’ve been so caught up on these lessons with Effie, and trying to feed my family, and even attempting to care for him without being caught that the time to have that conversation just hasn’t presented itself.  
  
Needless to say, plucking the feathers from this chicken has been soothing in more ways than one.  
  
After some time, Mama sets aside the dough with a loud sigh. “I’m going to go sweep off the front porch,” she announces. “Those Yankees have tracked dirt all over it. I can’t have the Odairs seeing such a mess.”  
  
I bob my head at her in acknowledgement, and she marches out of the room. Prim and I work in silence several minutes more before I see her glancing at me out of the corner of my eye. Finally, she clears her throat and speaks.  
  
“It’s nice we can have the Odairs over to visit again. It’s been so long,” she says simply. I nod, but don’t say anything,  so she continues. “Of course, those Yankees keep things interesting. Mama complains about them tracking dirt, but I think she’s growing fond of some of them.”  
  
I see her watching me intently at this; know she’s gauging me for my reaction. So I keep my eyes on my work, as I nod and try to keep my expression as casual as possible. “Yes, she seems less irritated with some than others.”  
  
Prim doesn’t say anything, but she stares at me for a long time as I work. Finally, she says, “Peeta seems to have perked up recently.”  
  
“Mr. Mellark, Prim,” I correct her. “And I don’t know anything about it, all right?”  
  
She’s grinning at me. “I didn’t say you did.”  
  
“Oh,” is all I say, and go back to focusing on my task at hand. But I can hear her chuckling, before she continues on.  
  
“Not that it would be odd if you had, with the way you brighten up whenever he’s in the room, and try too hard not to focus on him.”  
  
My hands still mid-pluck. I open my mouth to say something; decide against it and close it again. Then I open it once more, but Prim beats me to the punch.  
  
“Are you going to deny it? Don’t,” she insists, and her demeanor grows serious. “I’m your sister, Katniss -- you think I can’t see how you feel about him? Don’t sell me short like that.”  
  
I don’t say anything. Really, what can I say to that? My only real option is to ignore it. So I tell her to mind her own business and get back to work, but Prim is dead set on having this conversation it seems.  
  
“Ignoring me isn’t going to change anything, Katniss,” she tells me. “If you love him, you have to do something. Anyone can tell he feels the same way about you.”  
  
This pulls me up short, because it’s a dangerous revelation. “Anyone?” I ask quietly.  
  
She nods as she goes back to work. “Sure. Anyone paying attention. He’s loved you for months. And you two haven’t been the same since that night Mama and I were at the Odair’s. He told you how he felt then, didn’t he?” She sighs wistfully, as if the whole thing is just so romantic she can hardly bear it.  
  
I’m quiet for a long time as I think about this. Prim continues her work, but I can tell by the way she glances up at me every so often that she’s just giving me time, waiting for me to speak. My mind is screaming at me not to tell her, to deny it like everything else. And besides, Finnick already knows the truth; for now, just one person having it confirmed is risky enough. But Prim is right -- she is my sister, who knows me better than anyone. Continuing to hide it from her when it’s clear she sees what’s going on under her own nose would be nothing but insulting.  
  
So finally, after setting aside any misgivings, I nod. “Yes,” I admit in a voice barely above a whisper. Prim looks up at me, questioning; as though she’s actually forgotten what we were talking about. She wants me to expand on my answer. But I don’t know how to do so without giving away the most scandalous part of our secret. “What you said,” is all I can add.  
  
My little sister grins so wide, it stretches across her entire face. “I knew it!” she giggles. “And you realized you felt the same way?” she lets out another sigh. “It’s so romantic.”  
  
“It’s not!” I say, suddenly irritated. “Do you know how distressing it actually is? At any moment, I’m afraid the wrong move will get him killed!”  
  
Prim gives me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Katniss,” she says. “What are you going to do?”  
  
“I don’t know,” I admit, letting out a sigh of my own. Only this one is more apprehensive than wistful. “There’s Gale to contend with. And Mama.”  
  
“You need to tell them,” she says simply.  
  
“I know,” I say, and I can hear the irritation in my voice as I do. “Peeta reminds me every chance he gets, don’t worry.”  
  
Prim laughs. “I can imagine,” she says, then something clicks in her mind. “Wait, does this mean he’s asked you to marry him?”  
  
I hesitate for some reason, but really it’s pointless to do so. There isn’t much use in hiding something like that from her at this point. And really, it’s probably obvious anyways. So I tell her, “Yes.”  
  
“And did you agree?” she asks pointedly.  
  
Well, what can I say to that? I’m still not comfortable outright admitting too much to her, but she’s going to find out anyway, isn’t she? I go back and forth between telling her and holding off, but it doesn’t matter because she deduces the answer from my silence anyways. Prim is bouncing up and down, giddy with excitement and barely containing squeals. The next thing I know, she’s at my side, wrapping her arms tightly around me.  
  
“I’m so happy for you!” she tells me.  
  
“Don’t be, not yet,” I insist, though there’s a small smile playing at my lips despite it all.  
  
“Why not?” she asks, then frowns as she remembers. “Oh, right. Gale. When are you going to break it off with him?”  
  
“I don’t know,” I say. “This is difficult, Prim. He isn’t just another boy in our neighborhood. I- “ I hesitate as the impact of my next words hit me. “I... might not be able to stay here once everyone finds out.”  
  
Prim frowns now. “That’s true,” she agrees. “But... Katniss, you love each other! You need to be together!” She looks at me thoughtfully. “At least tell Mama soon. Then you can get out of all those lessons with Miss Trinket.”  
  
I laugh, feeling cynical. “You really think that would be much better than telling Gale?”  
  
“A little. I don’t think she’d be as upset as you think. She likes Peeta, for being a Yankee. And besides, she and- “ Prim is cut off short, because at that moment, Mama chooses to come back in from sweeping off the porch. Prim goes back to work, as do I, but every so often she makes pointed faces at me, trying to encourage me to tell our mother about Peeta and myself. But I won’t do it. Not yet. I’m not ready.  
  
That afternoon, Finnick and Annie sit outside on the porch with Mama, Prim and I. Haymitch is there, too, but he passed out from the liquor ages ago. The rest of us drink a pine needle tea -- it’s not much, but it’s more than we’ve been able to offer since before the war ended. I got the idea when I uncovered an old plant book my father used to keep for reference.  
  
Finnick and Annie sit next to each other on a bench. Annie cradles their son against her bosom, while Finnick sits stretched out, lazily passing the time with one eye open. The conversation is lighthearted, and about what can be expected between proper gentlemen and ladies. Not that I include myself in that description anymore. And as Haymitch lets out a loud snore, I realize I’m not the only one.  
  
But as the afternoon wears on, it’s becoming harder and harder not to follow Haymitch’s example. The conversation lulls every so often, and I’m only half paying attention as it is. My eyes are beginning to drift shut when they happen to lock on to Finnick’s. Equally as bored, he begins making faces at me. I smile, and he makes another one. It turns into a bit of a game, trying to see how far he can go before I laugh out loud. So far, I’m winning.  
  
I’m distracted when Peeta walks by with the other soldiers. I glance over, thinking I might catch his eye, but he stares intently straight ahead. But at the corner, I see him break away from the others, and head in the direction of the kitchen. I clear my throat, and turn back to the party. “Excuse me,” I say, standing up and smoothing out my skirts. “I’m going to go check on supper.” And I leave before anyone can stop me.  
  
The kitchen is empty when I reach it, though. Surprised not to see Peeta there already, I decide to move ahead in my plan to check on supper. I open the oven and peek inside, when I hear the door creak open behind me. Smiling a little, I turn around to greet Peeta... and am surprised when I see Finnick standing there instead.  
  
“Finnick,” I say, not bothering to hide my surprise.  
  
He raises his eyebrows at me. “Sorry. Were you expecting someone else? A certain blond-haired Yankee soldier, maybe?”  
  
I scowl at him. “That’s not funny.”  
  
“Who’s laughing?” he shrugs.  
  
“What do you want?” I snap, turning back to what I was doing and not bothering to check him for his reaction.  
  
“I want to keep an eye on you,” Finnick says. “What you’re doing is dangerous, Katniss.”  
  
I begin slamming things around on the table. “Leave me be, Finnick,” I warn him.  
  
“No!” he shouts. “Don’t you understand the implications of what you’re doing by consorting with a Yankee?”  
  
Now I glare at him. “Now you care all of a sudden?” I spit.  
  
Finnick looks taken aback somewhat. “Of course I care, Catnip,” he says, using the nickname Gale coined for me years ago, and both have used ever since. “Why wouldn’t I?”  
  
I hold his stare for a minute, then let my eyes to the floor. “No reason,” I mutter. I can feel Finnick watching me in the silence that ensues.  
  
“Katniss,” he starts at last, “I’m happy you found someone who loves you. It’s just, these circumstances...” He shakes his head, like he’s trying to clear it. “You realize that just a year ago, he could have been out there, bayoneting our men, don’t you?”  
  
“Of course I do,” I snap. Does he think I’m stupid? Wasn’t that my initial thought when I first met Peeta all those months ago?  
  
“Resentment towards Yankees might run deeper than you think,” Finnick continues. “Why, in a few days from now, Old Man Snow is going to be holding a meeting about what to do about them.”  
  
“What?” My eyes snap to his, questioning.  
  
“That’s right,” he nods. “There’s a lot of unrest over their presence, Katniss. I don’t want to see you caught in the middle because some Yankee promised you the moon.”  
  
“Peeta’s a good man,” I frown at him.  
  
“I sure hope so, Katniss,” Finnick sighs. “For your sake.” He pats me on the shoulder, and turns to leave. But he stops short when he comes face to face with Peeta, who has just come through the door.  
  
They stand at a stalemate for a moment, staring each other down. Then Peeta clears his throat. “Uh... am I interrupting something?” he asks.  
  
“We were just talking about you,” Finnick answers.  
  
Peeta glances at me, then looks back at Finnick. “What about?” His voice is serious and questioning.  
  
“Your relationship with Katniss,” Finnick says. Peeta looks at me. I can tell he’s at a loss as to what to say, for once in his life. I drop my gaze.  
  
“He knows, Peeta,” I mumble.  
  
I don’t know if he still looks at me, or if he looks back at Finnick, but Finnick is the one to continue. “What’s your angle, anyhow?” he asks. “What do you want with her? Isn’t it enough you Yankees have taken everything else? Now you’re stealing our women, too?”  
  
“I’m not stealing anyone,” Peeta says defensively. “Katniss does what she wants.” Then he turns around and heads out the door.  
  
“Thank you, Finnick,” I bark, and take off after Peeta. I catch up to him just as he’s about to exit through the back door, and call out his name. He stops, and waits for me to catch up.  
  
“What was that about?” he asks, trying to keep his voice even.  
  
“He doesn’t trust you,” I say. “I’m sorry. I should have told you he knew about... about us.”  
  
“How long has he known?”  
  
“Since that day I went over to their house for the knitting circle,” I explain. “I wanted to help you, so I was asking him about the war. He wanted to know why, and it just... came out.  
  
Peeta sighs. “I hope you didn’t just make things worse,” he says.  
  
“I thought you wanted people to know,” I say, growing irritated.  
  
“I do,” he says. “But this Finnick fellow seems pretty upset. Who is he, anyhow?”  
  
“My friend,” I say. “And Gale’s. Maybe more Gale’s than he is mine, really,” I add, thinking of the secret they both held from me concerning Gale’s feelings for Madge.  
  
Peeta tenses. “So he’s Gale’s friend, and he’s the one you chose to tell?”  
  
“What’s wrong with that?” I frown at him.  
  
“Nothing. Just I think it’s interesting you chose to tell the one person who would try to talk you out of it before you finally worked up the nerve to tell Gale yourself.”  
  
“Is that what you think?” I bite. “That I’m trying to get out of this by telling Finnick in hopes that he’ll give me reason to get out of it?”  
  
“It’s as good a reason as any, isn’t it?” he snaps back. I can tell as soon as he says it that he regrets it, but I don’t care. I’m furious by this point. After all I’ve said and everything I’ve done to try to help him, he still doesn’t believe me, still doesn’t trust me. Well, Peeta Mellark can fight his own battles from now on. And maybe I really will call this off, if he’s going to be like this.  
  
As I go back to join everyone on the porch again, I start to think I’m being a little unfair. But I’m still too angry to really care. So I shut him out, and all thought of him along with it. I even try to force myself to engage in the conversation more than I normally would.  
  
  
I don’t speak to Peeta again for the rest of the day. Not at supper, not when I’m about to go to bed that night, and I can see him acting as though he wants to talk to me. I bid goodnight to my family and slip upstairs before he has a chance. I’m still angry at him for not trusting me. So when I hear a knock at my door later, after the house has quieted down, I try to ignore it. Surely he’ll get the hint and go back to his own room, right?  
  
But he doesn’t. Peeta keeps knocking insistently, gradually growing louder and louder until I’m forced to open the door just to quiet him.  
  
“What?” I snap.  
  
Peeta looks me up and down. “Let me in,” he says.  
  
Now I frown at him. “Why should I do that? It’s dangerous for you to be up here.”  
  
“Exactly,” he says, “so let me in so they won’t catch us like this.”  
  
I just glare at him for a minute before finally giving way and letting him in my room. After I make sure the door is good and locked, I turn to face him, crossing my arms. “What do you want?”  
  
“To talk to you,” he says.  
  
“Oh, really? Do you want to continue to blame me for everything? Accuse me of stringing you along some more?”  
  
“No,” he says, and I’m surprised to see he looks regretful. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you, Katniss. I’m sorry.”  
  
I just scowl at him. “No. You shouldn’t have.”  
  
“I know,” he agrees. “The truth is, Katniss-” He hesitates, and I raise an eyebrow at him. He offers me a small smile. “The truth is that you’ve been by my side when I really needed you to be. And it’s not fair for me to be angry with you.”  
  
“No,” I agree. I still have my arms crossed, am still scowling, but less.  
  
He continues. “And the only reason I’m feeling any better now is because of your support.”  
  
This makes me forget myself for a moment. “You’re feeling better?” I ask.  
  
He chuckles. “Yes. Didn’t you notice?  
  
I suppose I did, but I don’t say that. Instead I just frown at him again. “How could I, when I’m so busy chasing after all the gentlemen in the neighborhood?”  
  
To my surprise, he laughs at this, then moves forward so that he closes the distance between us. Takes me in his arms. I even let him kiss me when he moves to do so. “Thank you,” he mutters against my mouth when we break apart.  
  
“You’re welcome,” I murmur back, and am lost in his warm breath against my skin, and the way his lips move with mine when he kisses me again, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me closer into him. I give in, and wrap my own arms around his neck.  
  
“Are you really feeling better?” I ask him when he pulls away.  
  
“Yes,” he says, as he begins stroking his hand through my hair. “Maybe not completely, but definitely better. Thanks to you.”  
  
This makes me frown. “Not completely better?” I repeat, drawing away. “What’s still bothering you?”  
  
Peeta lets out a long breath and lets go of me. He crosses over and sits down on the edge of my bed, grasping onto the side with both hands. “I don’t think I can explain it, Katniss.”  
  
“Try,” I say, frowning at him. How dense does he think I am, that I can’t get this?  
  
Peeta looks at me for a long moment, as though trying to decide if he should attempt to explain to me or not. Finally, he takes a deep breath, and opens up. “I’m just having a hard time living with the memories of... of the war,” he says.  
  
“I know,” I say, because he’s told me this already. “But it’s over, Peeta. Can’t you try to forget about it?”  
  
“I wish it were that simple,” he sighs, and my heart sinks when I see that haunted expression that moved me to fight for him so much these past days return to his face. “It’s different than a normal memory. It’s like... it’s like I’m living it all over again, that’s how clear it is. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t resist remembering it. I live it like I’m still there, and I react to it...”  
  
“Like you’re still there?” I offer. He nods.  
  
“Right.”  
  
Now I cross over and settle on the bed next to him. Reach out, take his hand in mine. “There’s nothing you can do to stop it?”  
  
He shakes his head sadly.  
  
“And that’s why you’ve been like this? Why you get nightmares at night?”  
  
“Yes,” he whispers.  
  
I stare at him, wondering what on earth this man - who couldn’t have been much more than a boy when he started, though it occurs to me now that I don’t know how old Peeta is -- could have seen to devastate him in quite this way. The war has always been made out to be some glorious thing, that all men should consider as an honor to fight in. And Peeta was on the winning side. What happens out there on those battlefields? It must be more grueling than I ever would have thought. I don’t want anything to do with this war business. I don’t want Peeta to go back to it, and if we have children, I don’t want them involved, either. I want everyone I love to stay away from it. It’s bad enough I already lost my father.  
  
Finnick’s words come back to me again -- be wary of Peeta Mellark, because he’s a Yankee. And it’s common knowledge among good Southern people that  a Yankee can’t be trusted. But as I see how tormented Peeta is by the memories of the war, a thought occurs to me: Peeta is bothered by these memories because he’s a good man. And it doesn’t matter what side of the war he fought on. No uniform could change that.  
  
“Stay here tonight,” I tell him.  
  
He looks at me in surprise. “Here? In your room?”  
  
“Yes,” I nod. “Why shouldn’t you?” I know it’s risky, but really, it’s no more risky than me sneaking into his room every night. As long as we stay quiet and behave ourselves, and Peeta leaves before anyone else wakes. But I want to be there for him if he has any more nightmares tonight.  
  
Peeta thinks about it for a moment. “All right,” he says at last. I smile at him, and kiss him on his cheek before I move to pull back the cover. Sliding underneath, I motion for him to join me. Peeta removes his boots and strips down so that he’s in only his drawers, then joins me in bed. He curls up against me, gathering me in his arms.  
  
“So just a kiss on the cheek? That’s all I get?” he asks with a smile.  
  
I grin. “Did you want more than that, Mr. Mellark?” I ask coyly.  
  
“You know I do,” he says.  
  
I pretend to look thoughtful. “Hmm. I don’t know... you’re already in my bed with me. That’s highly inappropriate. What do you think people would say if they knew we were kissing, too?”  
  
“Who cares?” he asks, and pulls me in for a kiss. I laugh, despite it all, and playfully try to bat him away.  
  
“Not on your life, Miss Everdeen,” he says, grinning against my mouth. “People are just going to have to accept us whether they want to or not.”  
  
I smile at him, and run my hand through his blond curls. “All right,” I say. “I’m trusting you.”  
  
“I know,” he tells me, and he gives me a genuine smile back. “That hasn’t been lost on me.” Peeta pulls me in for another kiss, longer this time, and deeper. I wrap my arms around him, and he cups my face with his hands. “Thank you for trusting me,” he says.  
  
I don’t know what to say. So instead, I just kiss him back. Not that Peeta seems to mind. His hands begin to slowly roam my body. At first they don’t go any further than my neck, or with his hands on my back. But gradually I feel them slide around to my chest; feel him gingerly take one of my breasts in a hand each and slowly begin to knead them with his hands.  
  
“Peeta,” I gasp. He grins, and stops my words of protest with another kiss. After a moment, his hands trail down and find their way underneath the edge of my nightgown. He slides them up, ghosting them over my skin until they’re back on my breasts, where they take them roughly in his hand. The contact makes me gasp somewhat, my eyes fluttering shut with a sharp intake of air. Peeta rolls my nipples until they’re hard between his fingers.  
  
“Peeta,” I manage to get out.  
  
“I know,” he says.  “We said we’d be good. I’ll stop.” But even as he says it, his fingers creep down to between my legs, where he plays with the skin surrounding my privates.  
  
“We should be good.”  
  
“Mmm-hmm,” he agrees absent-mindedly, but makes no effort to stop.  
  
“We could get into trouble here, if they hear us. No man should be found in my quarters at all, let alone like this.”  
  
“That’s what’s so naughty about it, isn’t it?” And like that, Peeta yanks my nightgown up, over my head, leaving me exposed completely. He wastes no time in tasting me, starting with my neck and working his way downward, using his tongue to taste my entire body. He spends extra time on my breasts, alternating between kicking on the tip of the nipple and sucking the whole thing into his mouth.  
  
Downward he goes still, setting to work between my legs. He sucks that sensitive nub into his mouth for a few minutes, then sticks a finger inside me, rubbing it up and down my inner walls. Then, he pauses and looks up at me, his eyebrows raised.  
  
“Miss Everdeen, you’re making too much noise. I’m going to have to stop if you keep it up,” he tells me. “Should I stop?”  
  
“No,” I get out, even though every instinct I have is telling me to say yes.  
  
“Then you’ll have to stay quiet,” he says with a mischievous glint, then replaces his finger with his tongue, licking at me relentlessly until I’m whimpering. I try to make no noise at all, but I just can’t hold it back anymore. Maybe I should be more concerned about upholding our oath to stay chaste, but I’m so happy to see this side of Peeta again after everything, that I just can’t put a stop to it.  
  
The feeling of his tongue inside of me doesn’t help, either.  
  
Peeta keeps going until I’m grinding myself against his face, my back arching off the mattress over and over again. I’m so close to finishing, when he stops and sits back. I jerk my head up to see what’s going on.  
  
He’s tugging off the last of his undergarments, and it’s no surprise to see how hard he is already. A surprising thought springs to my mind, to take him in my mouth and pleasure him that way. But it’s so dirty, I can feel myself blushing. I shove the thought away.  
  
Both of us naked, Peeta takes my chin in his hand and pulls me to him in a sloppy kiss. “Can you taste yourself on me?” he asks between kisses. When I nod, he lets out a groan and runs his fingers through my disheveled hair, pulling on it gently, which in turn makes me moan.  
  
Time slips by as Peeta and I give in, exploring each other in ways we never have done before. Peeta has me sit on his face as he tastes me from that position; I brave taking him in my hand and rubbing him against myself until we’re both shaking, aching for each other.  
  
I scold him when he finally reaches into his pants pocket and pulls the condom out, but he just kisses me on the tip of my nose before lowering me on my back, rolling it on, and gliding inside me. It’s hard to remember the need to be quiet with him filling me up. I’m surprised to realize just how badly I wanted to feel him moving inside of me again. I wrap my legs around his waist, allowing him to go in deeper. The rest of the world disappears as he pulls out and pushes in, over and over, while he brushes the hair out of my eyes, whispering how much he loves me, and punctuating the words with kisses peppered all over my face, but especially on my lips.  
  
He makes me come first, muffling my shout with his hand covering my mouth. The feeling of me clamping down on him makes it not long before I return the favor for him. Then he collapses on his back beside me, our hands tangling together as we both try to catch our breath.  
  
I glance over at him, his blond curls mussed and his chest heaving as it pants. I can’t help smiling as I take in the image.  
  
“How old are you?” I blurt out. Even I’m surprised by the question when it escapes my lips.  
  
Peeta just looks over at me, his expression unchanging. “Thirty-seven,” he says simply.  
  
My eyes widen. Thirty-seven? I never... of course, it’s not unheard of for there to be age differences, and some girls marry men even older. But thirty-seven? I never would have thought...  
  
“Winters are cold in Nebraska,” the corners of his mouth twitch up. “It preserves your skin really well. Makes you look young for ages.”  
  
At last, my mouth, which I hadn’t been aware had fallen open, closes, and I nod slowly. “I see. So you’re thirty-seven?”  
  
Peeta tries to nod, but then he bursts out laughing. “I’m not thirty-seven, Katniss!” he says, his blue eyes sparkling. “Not even close.”  
  
“You’re not?” I let out my breath in relief.  
  
“No,” he confirms. “But you should have seen your face. I’ve never seen you trying to not look so horrified.”  
  
I frown, but choose to ignore the comment. “Then how old are you really?”  
  
His face softens. “Twenty-three,” he answers, rolling over on his side and pulling me to him; wrapping me in his arms. “How old are you?”  
  
“Thirty-seven,” I say with an air of superiority, which makes Peeta laugh. He gives me a kiss.  
  
“How old are you, really?”  
  
“Twenty-three,” I say, and give him a shy smile.  
  
“Really?” I nod. “Then we’re the same age.”  
  
I smile at him, and reach a hand out to stroke the hair out of his eyes. There’s no going back, I think. I’ve given myself over to him in every way except publicly. And soon, I’ll do that as well. “I have an out, Peeta,” I say.  
  
He looks at me, confused.  
  
“With Gale.” And before I know it, I’ve spilled out every detail of what I’ve learned from Finnick: how Gale has been withholding the fact that he has feelings for Madge, that she may feel the same way for him. I even tell him about the meeting at Snow’s.  
  
His face turns grave at this last bit. “I know,” he admits.  
  
“What?” This is a surprise. I had figured that if Peeta knew about this already, he would have told me. But now it turns out that he, too, has been withholding information from me? “Why didn’t you tell me?”  
  
He stares at me for what feels an eternity. “We’re here for a reason, Katniss. Surely you had to realize that.”  
  
“But why didn’t you tell me?” I repeat, growing more irritated. Of course I knew they were here for a reason. I just hadn’t ever given much thought what that reason was. And he should have told, since he wants to marry me so much. And because here I am, naked in bed with him and not for the first time. I’ve compromised a lot for him.  
  
“I wasn’t allowed to tell you, Katniss,” he says gently. “It’s not that I didn’t want to. I just wasn’t at privilege to share with anybody outside the Union army.” He takes my hair in hand and strokes it soothingly. “It’s probably nothing, anyway,” he assures me.  
  
I’m not entirely convinced, or ready to forgive him. But he offers up apologies and reassurances, and, yes, kisses, until I finally begin to relax and acknowledge that maybe I had been overreacting. Soon, I find myself wrapped in his arms again, his hand rubbing up and down my back.  
  
“So,” he says at last, “Gale is in love with Madge, huh?” **  
  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to my betas, bigbigbigday006 and allies-person. 
> 
> Thanks to Ro Nordmann for the beautiful banner.


	8. Chapter 8

“That’s what Finnick says,” I tell Peeta. “That he’s had feelings for her since well before the war.”

  
“Why didn’t he marry her, then?” Peeta asks.

  
“I don’t know,” I admit. I hadn’t bothered asking Finnick why. It hadn’t occurred to me to ask it at the time, but now that Peeta brings it up, I realize I want to know, too. What made Gale wait until after the war, or even ask me to marry him at all, if he would rather have married Madge? "It’s just...” I pause, searching for the right words. “The more I think about it, the more the whole thing doesn’t make sense. Why would he propose to me? I’m the opposite of Madge. And besides, no one had ever expressed interest in me before.”

  
“And they did Madge?”

  
“Well...” suddenly I feel a little sheepish. “She was engaged, before the war.”

  
Peeta grins. “Well that’s your answer, isn’t it?”

  
I frown. “I guess. But why didn’t Gale propose before?”

  
“I don’t know,” Peeta shrugs.

  
My eyes drift to an undetermined spot beyond his shoulder. I know why, I think to myself. And it’s for the same reason I never had any beaux before Gale or Peeta. Or why I was left out on this tibit of information regarding Gale and Madge in the first place.

  
“What’s bothering you?” Peeta asks, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

  
“They don’t want me,” I say.

  
“Who doesn’t?”

  
“Any of them. Not even my own fiance does.”

  
“Which one? Because I’m pretty certain I want you,” Peeta smiles.

  
“You know what I mean, Peeta,” I sigh. “I mean Gale. Evidently I’m not even good enough to know he’s felt so strongly about Madge Undersee for all these years.

  
“Maybe it was an oversight,” Peeta offers.

  
I look away. “Perhaps,” I say, but not very happily. I feel Peeta’s arms tighten around me.

  
“They care about you, Katniss,” he says gently. “Maybe not in the same way that I do. But do you think Finnick would have gone after me like he did today if he didn’t care about you?”

  
This makes me think for a minute. “I suppose not,” I say at last.

“Of course he wouldn’t,” Peeta agrees. “He cares. And I’m sure Gale does, too, if he asked you to marry him regardless.”

  
I look at him for a minute before smiling. “You’re probably right,” I admit. Finnick and Gale have been my closest friends since childhood, after all. They’re like brothers to me. So Peeta must be right about them caring, which calms my insecurities.

  
Then, because he really has made me feel better, I snuggle in closer to him. Peeta’s hand finds its way to my hair, and he lazily begins to run it through it as he kisses me on my forehead. “I’m right,” he tells me right as I’m beginning to drift off to sleep. “You have no idea, the effect you can have.”

 

  
When my eyes open, the room has grown dim due to the dying embers in the fireplace. I try rolling over, but I’m stopped by a large object. As I put my hand out, feel the rise and fall of his chest, I realize that Peeta is still here with me. A pang of alarm jolts through me -- I’m not sure how long either of us have been asleep, and he needs to be out of here before anyone is awake to catch us.

  
Judging from the stillness of the house, though, it seems I’ve managed to wake up in time. I gently shake him awake; after a moment, his eyes flutter open. He seems confused at first, until he sees me. Then he smiles.

  
“Is it morning already?” he asks.

  
“Close enough,” I whisper. “We need to get you out of here.”

  
Peeta doesn’t seem to be in very much of a hurry, however. He stretches and lets out a long yawn. “But I’m perfectly happy right here,” he tells me.

  
I can’t help smiling, despite how anxious I am. “I know,” I answer. “But if you don’t clear out now, they might not ever let us see each other again.”

  
“We could always elope,” he suggests. “In fact, that’s not such a bad idea. Just me and you. Then we wouldn’t have to worry about any previous engagements or curious customs or anything.”

  
“We can’t,” I say sadly. “You know we can’t.” He knows I couldn’t walk out on my family like that, and I doubt the Union Army would be too thrilled with him abandoning his post, especially for a Confederate woman.

  
Peeta doesn’t bother masking his sigh. “You’re right,” he agrees as he sits up. He looks at me with those blue eyes of his. “I guess it’s a good thing one of us is practical enough to keep us out of trouble,” he says with a smile.

  
“Just barely,” I say.

  
He laughs at this. “That’s true. I can get you to have some fun with me sometimes.” He leans his forehead against mine as he says it, grinning, before he leans in and kisses me. I return the kiss, but something nags at me.

  
“Peeta...” I start, “It’s... it’s more than just fun, right?”

  
Peeta looks surprised, but then his face softens. He takes my hand in both of his. “It’s everything, Katniss,” he tells me. “I know we’re doing this all wrong, and if we’re ever caught, we’ll be run out of town or worse. But in my mind, it’s like you’re my wife already.” He lets my hand go, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He stands, and moves like he’s going to get dressed. We’re both still naked.

  
But then he stops, and turns to face me with his brows creased and a quizzical look on his face. “Why would you even need to ask that?” he asks. “You know how I feel about you.”

  
I look down at the floor, but smile. Peeta grabs my hand, tugging me up so that I’m on my feet, too. He wraps me in his arms, pulling me into him so that his head rests on mine. “I love you,” he murmurs, holding me close. I rest my head on his chest, and we stand there like that for some time, feeling one another; listening to the steady sound of Peeta’s heartbeat before we wordlessly break apart.

  
While Peeta dresses, I find my nightgown and pull it over my head. Once Peeta is decent, we cross quietly to the door together. Just before he slips through the opening to sneak back downstairs, he turns back to me, takes my chin in his hand, and pulls me to him for another kiss.

  
“I can’t wait until you’re officially my family,” he tells me before he disappears down the hall.

 

I stifle a yawn later that day as I sit through one of Effie Trinket's posture lessons. She has been working me since early this morning, brushing me up on my etiquette skills, my skills as a hostess, anything that might be necessary to be a proper wife. She has me working every minute that she has with me. And between being cooped up inside all day and Peeta keeping me awake half the night, my energy is running low. Though a small smile plays across my lips at the thought of him. He's off on Union duties this morning; in fact, I haven't seen him since he left my bedroom early this morning. While Effie yammers on about something, my mind drifts off to him, wondering what he's doing right now. I'm ducking out to go hunting as soon as this lesson is over, which brightens my mood considerably because getting out of here will wake me up. And Peeta will meet me afterwards as he always does.

When Effie is finally finished, she and Mama insist on tea before Haymitch gives her a ride home in his buggy. As soon as they disappear down the driveway, I steal out the backdoor and cross to the edge off the woods as quickly as possible. Once I'm under the protective cover of the trees, however, I slow to a still, breathing in the fresh air, the rich scent of the pine; feel the cool breeze caress my face. It feels like Heaven out here in the forest. Outside of the time stolen with Peeta, this is the only time I get to be myself.  
Eventually, I begin to move again. By this point, I’ve learned to hide my bow and arrows, as well as my game bag, in a hollowed out log not too far from the edge of the forest. It’s here that I head to first, tying the bag around my waist the best I can with the rest of the attire in the way. What I wouldn’t give to be a man while I’m out here. Or at least to be able to wear a pair of trousers. At least the quiver isn’t too hard to get over the top half of my body. With the bow grasped tightly in my hand, I set out.

In the short months since I’ve started hunting, I’ve learned how important a quiet tread is. It’s not an easy feat when you are stuck in layers of petticoats and skirts. More than once, I’ve entertained the thought of stripping down to just my pantaloons. The woods are quiet -- I’ve never run into a single person out here. Even if I did, I would hear them coming in time to hide from sight, I’m certain. The thought is tempting, but I have yet to give in to it.

  
First I make my rounds to a few places I know have other sources of food: bushes with edible berries, a few wild peach trees, a pond that has katniss tubers, the plant I was named for. I even check a few patches that seem particularly friendly towards dandelions. I smile as I gather the bright yellow blossom. Ever since that time I finally realized we could harvest them for food the day after Peeta saved us with the bread, I can’t help associating them with him.

  
The other things I remembered with time. Eventually I remembered that my father had kept a book of all the plants in the area and the uses they held; some with healing properties, others that could be eaten. I’ve thought about adding to it, but I’m no good at drawing, and the pictures must be just so. I know Peeta would happily do them for me if I asked him to, but so far I haven’t yet had the chance.

  
I make slow but steady progress as I travel from spot to spot. Occasionally, I happen upon a squirrel or quail that I make quick work of with one of my arrows. Today hasn’t been too bad so far. Somedays I’m lucky to get anything at all.

  
I have just finished wading through a shallow pond, harvesting katniss, when I come across a dead rabbit. It’s hanging by its neck in a thin wire about a foot above my head. I stare up at it a minute before glancing around and realizing there are more nearby. I realize this must be a twitch up snare.

  
For months now, I’ve been trying to use snares with no success. I just can’t seem to get the hang of them. This is also the first time I’ve seen evidence of other hunters out here in these woods, which is interesting. I have a general idea of where I am in relation to the house, but now I’m wondering just how far away I actually am. If there are others nearby, I need to be careful. A lady caught doing something so unladylike such as hunting would not go over well in the community.

  
But I’ve been trying to get the hang of snares for so long, that I can’t help staying stuck to the spot. I glance around me; there doesn’t seem to be any sign of anyone else out here anyways. I decide it’s safe for me to take a closer look. My fingers are just on the wire above me when a voice rings out.

  
“That’s dangerous.”

  
Snatching my hand away quickly, I jump back several feet as Gale materializes from behind a tree. Has he been watching me this whole time? Something drops in my stomach at thought. If he was able to sneak up on me without my noticing, who else might have been out here, watching me do something I’m not supposed to do?

  
Gale stands in one spot for what feels like a lifetime, his face expressionless as he takes me in. Will years of friendship be gone just like that now that he’s caught me out here? No, that wouldn’t be like Gale. Though I’m not sure I can say the same when he finds out about Peeta and me. But he can’t be too thrilled with me right now, and I wish he would say something. Get it over with. I’m just beginning to wonder if he’s going to speak at all, or if he’s maybe waiting for me to explain myself, when he surprises me completely by grinning.

  
“Katniss,” he says, shaking his head, “what are you doing out here?”

  
“Nothing,” I say immediately. It’s a bald-faced lie, and we both know it. But it’s the first thing that comes to mind to do. Deny it.

  
Gale raises his eyebrows, looking at me curiously. “Oh?” he says. “It doesn’t look like nothing.”

  
I hold his gaze for a long moment as he waits for me to answer. Finally, I take a deep breath. “I just wanted to look at your snare,” I say.

  
“Well, Catnip,” he says as he moves to disengage the rabbit from the wire, “stealings punishable by death, or hadn’t you heard?

  
“I wasn’t stealing,” I say. “I just wanted to know how it works.”

  
He looks me over, not convinced. His eyes linger on the carcass I have slung over my shoulder. “So where did you get the squirrel?”

  
Now I drop my eyes, unable to meet his. “I shot it,” I admit in a barely audible voice. I lift up my arm to show him my bow.

  
Gale freezes as his eyes fasten on it. “You?” he asks. I nod. He seems shocked; I brace myself for what will happen next.

  
And I’m not prepared when he begins laughing.

  
“It’s not funny, Gale,” I say defensively. Surely he has to know how desperate we’ve been to eat. Everyone in the community has been feeling it. Everyone in the South, for that matter. Besides, it turns out I’m not that bad at it, either. “I’ve improved a lot since I’ve started,” I tell him.

  
“I know,” Gale admits. “That’s not why I’m laughing.”

  
I scowl at him. “Then why are you laughing?”

  
Still chuckling, Gale fixes me with his eyes; grey, just like my own. “I’m laughing because ever since I’ve known you, Katniss Everdeen, you’ve been trying to sneak off with Finnick and me, or your Pa, and hunt with us in the woods. And now that you’re more or less in charge of your estate, I see that you’ve done just that!”

  
I open my mouth to protest, to inform him of just how dire our situation was to prompt me to take up such an excursion. But then I close it again immediately. Because I realize I can’t, and be entirely accurate. He’s right. Now that I think about it, I did try to tag along with them when we were children. Instead, I look at him, hesitant. “You’re not going to snitch on me, are you, Gale?” I ask quietly.

  
Gale just snorts. “What for? I’m your fiance, and I know now. And your poor mother has enough to deal with without hearing about what you’ve been sneaking off to do. How long have you been doing this for, anyhow?”

  
“Six months,” I say, and begin to feel some of the apprehension lifting off my body.

  
“I see,” Gale says, nodding as he finishes getting the rabbit down off the wire. He stuffs it inside his own game bag, then turns and begins to walk away. After a few steps, he looks back over his shoulder at me. “Come on, Catnip,” he says. “Looks like I’m going to have to teach you everything I know.”

  
I just stare at him for a moment before I follow.

 

 

The sun progresses in its trail across the sky as Gale and I traipse across the forest floor together. He makes good on his promise to show me everything he knows. At the next snare we came across, he showed me how to remove the body without cutting my own fingers off, as well as how the contraption works. A few times, he has me practice on removing them. He even shows me how to set the snares so that they’ll set properly when an animal springs it. I definitely improve on my technique under his guidance, but I’m still not as skilled as he is.

  
He also shows me a few other things, like how to set a line for fishing in the ponds around us, and a few more plants I didn’t know about. As time wears on, I almost forget about the pressure of everything weighing on me. It’s good to be able to just enjoy Gale as my friend once more, without the complications of an engagement burdening us. Let alone an engagement I’m trying to get out of. Here in the woods, it’s like we’re the carefree children we were in the past.

  
We even enjoy ourselves as we did when we were children. On a rock we sit together on while waiting for fish to bite on one pole, Gale plucks some blackberries off the surrounding bushes. He pops a couple in his mouth, then throws another in the air, which I catch with my mouth. It’s a game the three of us used to play all the time.  
Later, we’re setting another snare when Gale leans back on his haunches and looks up at me thoughtfully for a long moment. "Why didn't you tell me you were hunting?" he asks at last.

  
I meet his gaze; steady myself. "Why didn't you tell me how you feel about Madge?"

  
His mouth drops open and he gapes at me -- I can tell he doesn't know how to answer. In fact, I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Finally, he closes his mouth and tries his best to recover with the most dignified expression he can muster. “I don’t know what you mean,” he says, looking down at the line and refusing to look back up at me.

  
I don’t know how else to approach it, so I decide to just tell him the truth. “Finnick told me,” I confess.

  
Gale looks up at me at last, a deep frown on his face. He doesn’t say anything.

  
“He told me how you feel about her,” I continue. “That you... that you have feelings for her.”

  
At last, Gale sighs. “It doesn’t matter, Katniss,” he says. “That’s in the past. I’m ready to marry you, now.”

  
I just stare at him for a while as he works, trying to figure out my next move. Finally I speak again. “Why didn’t you ask her instead?”

  
“It doesn’t matter, Katniss,” he says again, but I insist. So Gale takes a deep breath, focusing intently on the snare he’s building. “Because I didn’t make my move in time,” he finally tells me. “Someone else asked before I had a chance.”

  
“And she said yes,” I say, thinking of her late fiance, a man named Darius who went off to fight in the war with the rest of our men. Only he never made it home.

  
“And she said yes,” he confirms. “Her father liked him. Then the war broke out, and you know that we all went to fight in it.”

  
“I do,” I say, trying not to sound too bitter. Those were among the last days I ever saw my father again. The last days I would ever hear his laugh, or feel him swoop Prim and me up in a protective hug after a long day at work. Even if the Union did essentially dismantle our entire source of income by taking our help away, I’m not sure I would have cared if he had at least returned home again.

  
Gale continues. “War... well, I shouldn’t be telling you this since you’re a lady, but war can be hard to go through, Katniss. By the time I got home, I just wanted to settle down and try and forget it ever happened. And we didn’t know yet that Darius wouldn’t be coming home, so as far as I knew, Madge was still off the market.”

  
“But I wasn’t,” I say.

  
“No, you weren’t. And I thought, I may not love you like Madge, but I still care about you deeply, Katniss. Why not make you my wife? You already felt like family to me in a lot of ways.”

  
“So you love me like a cousin or something?”

  
“Yes,” he smiles. “Or a sister. And I guess maybe I hoped it would grow into more, if given time. If not, I knew you’d still make a good partner.” Gale glances up at me with what almost looks like an apologetic look. Does he feel bad about not loving me? Or does he think I could be in love with him?

  
“I’m flattered,” I say, rolling my eyes. “But really, if you want to marry Madge, you should just go ask her.”

  
Gale stops and looks up at me, his mouth open but no words coming out of it. I can see the question in his eyes.

  
“Really,” I urge.

  
Gale composes himself. “Katniss, really, it doesn’t matter anymore. It won’t get in the way of our marriage.”

  
“Gale,” I say in a pressing voice. “If I’m the only thing standing in the way of you and Madge, then you should go after her. I’ll agree to breaking the engagement if you want to do so.”

  
He stands up and looks at me. “You know how scandalous that could be. Besides, Madge and her family have money enough and her father is still around to provide for them. Not like yours.”

  
I’m no stranger to scandalous behavior, I think. But I don’t tell him this. I’m not going to tell him anything about Peeta just yet, because even if he does have Madge, I still don’t know how he’d take the news that I’ve fallen for the very same Yankee soldier I swore to him all those months ago I never would. There will be other times for that. For now, I decide to just encourage him to be with his own love.

  
“I don’t mind, Gale,” I insist. “I would rather see you happy. I’d rather be alone than tied up in a marriage without love, anyway.” And it’s true, though an entirely unpopular opinion around here. Everyone knows a proper lady’s place is as a wife. But it doesn’t matter, because I have Peeta, anyway. “Besides,” I add and hold up my game bag, “I’m not doing so bad providing for my family on my own.”

  
He’s silent for a long while as he thinks this over. “You’re really all right with it?” he asks at last.

  
I nod. “You love her. And she’s free to be yours, now, if you still want her.”

  
More silence. And then Gale breaks into the biggest smile I’ve ever seen from him. He leans forward and gives me a hug, and I can smell the scent of smoke and pine on him, but it’s anything but romantic. For the first time, He lets me go. “Thank you, Katniss,” he says.

  
“You’re welcome,” I say, and smile gently at him.

  
“We should probably be very careful in how we play this, though,” he continues. “Let’s not tell everybody about it just yet. We need to wait until the time is right.”

  
I think about it; realize he’s right. “Fine,” I agree, even though I don’t want to. “Does this mean I still need to go through with your aunt’s lessons on how to be a good wife?”

  
“I think it’s for the best if you do, at least for now,” he says, giving me a lop-sided smile. “Sorry.”

  
“All right,” I say and give an overly dramatic sigh.

  
Gale laughs a little and tugs on my braid. “Not like it’s going to do much good with you, Catnip,” he says. “She’s poured everything into making you the quintessential lady, and you’re still out here hunting like a man.”

  
“I’ll keep your secret if you’ll keep mine,” I say.

  
He smiles at me. “Deal,” he says.

  
We move on, setting other snares, gathering from the rest. I even let Gale use my bow a few times. It turns out he doesn’t have much experience with them. His father knew about snares, and so that’s what he taught him.

  
With Gale’s help, I have the best haul I’ve managed yet. I’m so thankful, that he wasn’t upset to catch me hunting, that he helped me learn more. And most of all, that the weight of our engagement has finally been lifted off my shoulders. It becomes more and more real as we go. By the time we agree to call it a day, there’s a lightness in me I haven’t felt in years.

  
“We’ll decide later when to tell them the wedding’s off soon,” Gale promises as we part ways. I nod, and smile, feeling almost unlike myself. Gale smiles, too, and thanks me one more time before he heads back in what must be the direction of his property.

  
I watch him go until he disappears from view, blending in with the trees and bushes. It’s silent all around me once more as I turn and head back in what I know is the direction of my own. I’m pleased by how well that went. The engagement is off, unofficially, at least. I don’t have to worry about it any longer. Peeta will be so happy when I tell him.  
Just the thought of it makes me pick up my pace.

  
I don’t think it takes more than half an hour to reach the edge of our property, judging by the sun’s position in the sky. And when I do, I see him in his usual spot, waiting for me. just as he always does.

  
Peeta.

  
There’s an almost giddy feeling in me that I allow myself to feel for the first time. Peeta spots me and watches as I approach. I feel the smile on my face growing bigger and bigger the closer to him I get. I’m practically running to him by the time I reach him. And by now, Peeta sees that I’m excited about something, and looks at me with eyebrows raised.

  
When I finally reach him, Peeta’s grin matches my own. He’s just opening his mouth, probably to ask me why I’m so happy, when I throw my arms around him, holding him tightly to me as I stop his words with a kiss. It doesn’t take him too long to catch up.

  
“Have a successful day?” he asks with a grin when we break apart.

  
I just smile at him. “It’s over, Peeta.” I say. “I did it.”

  
His brow creases. “What’s over?”

  
I breathe in. “The engagement.”

  
Peeta just looks at me incredulously for a moment. Then his eyes widen.

  
“You mean-”

  
I nod.

  
“How-” he starts, shaking his head, that grin of his still stretched out across his face so far he’s almost grimacing. “Oh, what does it matter how?” he laughs. He crushes me to him him as his lips meet mine for another kiss.


	9. Chapter 9

"We should play it careful from now until the we can tell others about us safely," Peeta said to me as we walked back that afternoon, though it didn't stop him from snaking his arm around my waist until we were in eyeshot of the house. Nor did it stop us from watching each other at supper more than we should, with me barely even eating due to nerves, or from stealing a kiss goodnight before we retired to bed for the evening.

 

It also didn't stop either of us from pulling each other down to his room, barely locking the door before his hands were under the collar of my dress,  slipping it down over my shoulders as he pressed kisses in its wake. With a fever that controlled us, we undressed each other as fast as we could manage; then, at the feeling of skin on skin, we fumbled together towards the bed.

 

Except we didn’t quite make it.

 

Instead, in our fervor, one of us tripped and brought both of us down in a tangle of arms and legs, and now I find myself pinned underneath Peeta’s bare chest. There’s a long moment where I can feel him catching his breath after having it knocked out of him while I reorient myself.

 

Finally, Peeta gets on his arms to push himself up. Freed, I sit up myself. As soon as he catches my eye, Peeta grins, then he even begins to laugh. And I can’t help myself. I laugh, too.

 

“I guess we got a little ahead of ourselves,” Peeta says as he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close.

 

“I guess so,” I agree with a nod. I look up into those blue eyes of his, dancing in the light of the fire and from the humor of it all. He leans in and gives me a kiss.

 

“Maybe we should take this slower, hmm?” he says. “This is risky enough as it is without one of us breaking a leg.”

 

“How would we even explain that?” I ask. I can’t think of any innocent reason that would explain how either of us could go to bed fine one night, and wake up with a broken appendage the next morning.

 

“We’d have to get creative, that’s for sure,” Peeta says. “I’d rather we just avoid having to do it at all, if it’s all the same.”

 

“Me too,” I say. “Besides, I’m no good at the nursing stuff. I wouldn’t be able to help you. That’s Prim’s bag.”

 

Peeta quirks an eyebrow. “Oh? And what makes you so sure I’d be the one to get hurt, anyway?”

 

“You’re the clumsy one,” I say.

 

“Is that so?” he asks, feigning a look of hurt, just barely masking his smile.

 

“Because you’re the noisy one,” I tell him. “It’s a wonder the whole house didn’t hear you sneaking upstairs last night.”

 

“Me?” He looks genuinely surprised.

 

I nod, suddenly feeling bad. Had he not realized? I suppose he may not have. He’s not a hunter. Peeta looks away, and I realize he actually may be hurt by this revelation. So I reach over and kiss him on his cheek. “You’re not much worse than anyone else, at least,” I offer helpfully.

 

Peeta quirks an eyebrow up at me playfully. “Do you have men sneaking up to your room often?” he asks, looking interested. I can feel my cheeks grow hot.

 

“No,” I say, looking down at the floor. I can hear Peeta chuckling beside me; then he’s pulling me over into his lap, facing away from him so that my back is against his chest. Peeta encompasses me in his arms; I allow myself to settle into his warmth. I lean my head back and rest it on his shoulder as he gives me a kiss.

 

“That’s good to hear,” he tells me. “I would be very upset to find out I had to share you when I thought I’d finally gotten you all to myself.”

 

“You do have me to yourself,” I tell him. “If you don’t count Marvel and Brutus, and the goat man who lives down the way.”

 

“That’s very funny,” he says. “Only I’m not laughing.”

 

Hmm. That doesn’t sound very good. And I can feel his grip on me has hardened somewhat. I twist around in his arms to face him; he only gives me a small, tired smile. “Peeta...” I begin.

 

He tries to wave it off. “I know, Katniss. It was a joke.” But not one he found very funny. Feeling awful, I pull his face to mine, and give him what I hope is a lingering kiss.

 

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry I put you through all that waiting, Peeta.  I- “ I catch myself just in time, then wonder if that was really a good idea. I hear his breathing grow quiet, his whole body go still against mine.

 

“You what?”

 

I study my hands for a long minute while Peeta waits for me to answer. Why not just say it, I finally decide. It isn’t like it’s the first time I’ve told him how I felt, anyway. And I just ended things with my fiancé so that I could be with him. Marry him. Really, it’s silly that I have a hard time saying it.

 

My voice comes out in just above a whisper when I speak. “I love you,” I tell him. I don’t dare move my eyes from their spot on my hands at first, but when he makes no response, I tear them away to check if he heard me. Peeta is looking at me with the goofiest smile on his face. A part of me wants to laugh at the sight of it, but at the same time, I understand. It even makes me smile to see it, a grin slowly stretching across my face to match his own.

 

Peeta brings his hand to my face, cupping my cheek in its warm grasp as he slowly brings me to him and kisses me tenderly.

 

“I’ve been so afraid you were just humoring me this whole time,” he says quietly after we break apart. I note the way his voice nearly chokes as he says it. I bring my hand up to cover his, still caressing my face.

 

“I thought you knew,” I tell him. “This isn’t the first time I’ve told you.”

 

“That’s true,” he admits. My heart sinks when I see that haunted look creep into his eyes again. "But since the war, I sometimes have trouble knowing what's real and what's not real." He gives me a sad smile and shifts so that he's almost cradling me. "It's nice to be reminded that this is real."

 

"It's real," I say, gently pushing my fingers underneath his so that I can weave them between mine. "I'm sorry it's so hard for me to say it. But it's real. I love you, Peeta." My words spur me to action, and I move so that I face him. I straddle his hips, one knee on either side of his legs, as I look him in the eyes. Not breaking contact. I feel Peeta hold his breath as he looks up at me, watching me. Waiting to see what I’ll do.

 

My hands come up to his chest, and as I lean in to kiss him, they slide across his broad shoulders; feel the rise and fall of his chest as his breath becomes labored. A hush falls over us. Peeta slowly brings a hand up and covers mine with it.

 

“You’re trembling,” he murmurs.

 

“Am I?” I mutter back. I glance down at our joined hands and see he’s right. Apparently I’m shaking so hard, it’s making his hand tremor as well. Suddenly inexplicably shy, I slip mine out from under his. That’s when I see his is still moving. Our eyes lift and meet at the same time, the same realization dawning on us both.

 

“You’d think we had never done this before,” Peeta laughs nervously.

 

I nod, and can barely believe my ears when a giggle escapes me. I feel a little heady--I wonder if this is what it’s like to be intoxicated.  My heart is racing inside my chest. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen Peeta look at me quite like this before. It’s a mixture of passion, adoration, and an almost childlike hesitation.

 

At last, I tear my gaze away from his, and look down between us. I trail my hand down his chest, teasing him, feeling emboldened at the way his skin spasms under my touch. Before my eyes, he grows hard. There is something almost powerful in knowing I’m the one who did that to him. Gingerly, I take him in my hands; Peeta’s eyes close immediately, and he lets out a groan. I run my hand up and down the length of the shaft a few times, reveling in how it makes Peeta feel.

 

My hand stills, and I meet Peeta’s eyes. “It’s in the trunk,” he whispers, and I nod, moving to where it lays at the end of his bed. It doesn’t take long for me to find the condom and return to him. I begin the task of rolling it on him, but realize I’m not exactly sure how to do it. But Peeta’s skilled fingers cover my own, and together we put it on. Then I set up on my knees, and hover over him. I can just feel his tip protruding my opening, and take a deep breath. Peeta’s eyes are dark with lust and roll to the back of his head at this new sensation, but his kiss is soft and warm when I lean it. My head still touched to his, I move to take him inside me.

 

“Katniss,” he stops me with a firm grasp on my wrist. I stop and look at him questioningly. He stares back at me. “This... this has to be the last time we do this. We can’t do it again until we’re married.” He’s being serious, but then he gives me such a wide grin that makes him look like such a schoolboy, that I can’t help smiling myself as I agree.

 

Then, without another word, I sink down onto him, our locked gaze broken as my eyes flutter shut at the sensation of him filling me, stretching me and fitting into me so completely. For a moment, I don’t even move, relishing in the feel of our connection. Everything around me dissolves until only Peeta is left -- his scent, his strong, steady arms wrapped around my back as he waits for my cue; his warm breath that tells me he’s about to crush his lips to mine. If someone were to walk in on us right now, I’m honestly not sure I would care.

 

The rest of the night becomes an almost overwhelming blur as Peeta and I move together like one. I know that we change positions several times -- he lowers onto his back and caresses me lovingly as he moves inside me on top of him; during an attempt to get into his bed, he bends me against the dresser and takes me that way. At some point, we finally do make it to bed, and now he is on top of me, only it’s not like all those times before. Peeta is quiet and serious, like there’s an entire world locked away inside of him that he draws on to make his movements. Mostly we press together in every way we can.

 

Peeta seems disappointed in himself when he comes first, but after he gathers himself again, he immediately dips his hand between my legs to finish me off, swallowing my euphoria with a kiss. He holds me as I float back down to earth, still wrapped up in him. We catch our breath together; I glance over and meet his gaze. One of his hands finds mine as he threads his fingers through and brings it up between us. “What next, Miss Everdeen?” he whispers with a smile.

 

“We wait,” I whisper back as I wrap my free arm around his neck.

 

“For you to announce the engagement is off?”

 

I nod.

 

“I take it Gale doesn’t know about... this.”

 

“No,” I admit, searching his eyes. “Does that bother you?”

 

He brings his free hand up and languidly strokes a stray piece of hair from my eyes, then cups my cheek with it. “Honestly, I don’t give a damn what Gale Hawthorne thinks, as long as he doesn’t think that he’s marrying you,” he says.

 

I smile at him. “He doesn’t.”

 

“Then let him think what he wants,” Peeta says, and our mouths find each other once more. In between our kisses and touches, we decide that Peeta will make his move soon after Gale and I announce the engagement is off. He will begin to court me as any other suitor would. And when he can finally ask me to marry him, I, of course, will say yes. And maybe we won’t wait as long as we’re supposed to, we decide. We are both drunk off what’s happened between us tonight. We both want to spend as little time apart as possible.

 

Peeta and I have spent the entire night together. We’re both keenly aware that our time is running out, that soon I will have to leave his bed for the last time until we’re married. It’s a thought that is both exhilarating and sobering. It’s evident by now how tired we both are, but we fight off sleep as long as possible, wanting to linger in every last possible moment together. Finally, Peeta can hold it off no longer and falls asleep in my arms, his head cradled against my chest. I stay for some time, watching him sleep. He’s peaceful and mournful all at once in his slumber. I trace the outline of his lips with my finger, then lean in to kiss them. I plant another kiss on his forehead for good measure. Then I extricate myself from his arms, and reluctantly return to my own room.

 

 

 

 

 

I slip in and out of a light sleep for only about an hour before the tolling of the grandfather clock downstairs tells me it’s time to begin the day. I’m exhausted, but light-headed and giddy. A part of me hopes Peeta wakes before all the others, but he seems to be sleeping longer than usual this morning. I try to hide my disappointment when my mother is the first person to walk into the kitchen that morning. Followed by Prim, then Haymitch.

 

Peeta finally emerges some time later, dressed in his blue Union uniform. My heart sinks a little at the implication that he probably won’t be around much today, but I try to brush it aside. My stomach also feels a little queasy at the sight of him, but it’s not entirely unpleasant. For some reason, it’s difficult to look at him. Which seems ridiculous, all things considered. But something stirs inside me when I finally catch his eye, and he offers me a secretive grin.

 

I’m hoping to steal at least a few more moments with him before he goes off on his duties, and I’m stuck in my lessons with Effie, but I don’t get the chance. Instead I furtively watch him as he leaves before I reluctantly turn to my own commitments. Prim giggles at the sight of me at the window, but I ignore it and tell her to get back to her chores.

 

Effie has me working every minute today. She has me practicing my posture, both sitting and walking gracefully. She has me try this with books balanced on my head, the whole idea being that I’ll have to walk delicately in order to not knock them off. Mama is there, too -- she’s managed to wrangle her way into these lessons ever since day one. If I weren’t so bored by them, and so exhausted today in particular, it’d be almost amusing to watch the covert power struggle between them.

 

“Stand up straight, Katniss,” Mama chides me. I already feel like I’m standing as straight as I possibly can, but I try to stretch up further. Mama doesn’t look mollified, but I’m not sure she ever could be.

 

Because I’m so tired, things that would normally be easier for me have become harder to accomplish. I’m frustrated, aggravated, and bored, and I’m stifling yawns left and right. I think I’m getting away with it, but in a quiet moment out of Effie’s earshot, Mama demands to know why I’m so tired. Growing warm, I stammer out that I simply hadn’t slept well the night before. Mama tells me to try to be a little more alert, but it only seems to make me mess up more.

 

“You’ll never pass in Atlanta society if you keep up like this, dear,” Effie huffs after I accidentally pour some tea on a table cloth. This does it for Mama, who immediately flies on the defense over the implication that we’re backwoods. Grateful for the break, I tune out as I look out the window. The shadows outside are long in the afternoon sun, and to my pleasant surprise, I happen to see Peeta as he walks back to the house with the other soldiers. A smile creeps into my face.

 

“Is this amusing to you, Katniss?” Mama snaps, bringing me back to reality. I jerk my face back in her direction, shaking it.

 

“No, ma’am,” I say, biting back another yawn.

 

We work for some time more, each exercise more grueling than the next. Between Effie’s jabs and Mama’s impatience, I’m growing more and more irritable. Effie barks at me to stand taller, move more gracefully, smile wider. Which in turn only makes me want to do these things less and less.

 

Finally, when I accidently drop a teacup that shatters over the serving tray, Effie throws her hands in the air. “I give up!” she cries. “You’ll never be be refined enough to take on the Hawthorne name.”

 

There’s a dead silence in the room as Effie’s words sink in. I know Mama is measuring her own response, but by now I’m so fed up with the whole thing, that I just let it slip out.

 

“So what? The engagement is off, anyway.”

 

I cringe, kicking myself over and over. Why couldn’t I have kept my mouth shut? Maybe they didn’t notice... but as I dare to look over, I can see that both of them heard me clearly. They sit like statues, staring at me with a frightening intensity.

 

“What was that?” Mama asks me at last.

 

I close my eyes and nod. I can’t very well take it back now, can I? And what would even be the point. They’re only going to find out later anyway. “Gale and I have agreed to call the engagement off.” And I’m about to launch into a whole explanation about his feelings for Madge, and how we had discussed it and I was fine with him marrying her instead, but Mama pulls me up short with her next words.

 

“Is this because of Peeta Mellark?”

 

An ice cold chill runs through me. She knows? Has she known this whole time? How does she know? Haymitch’s words come back to haunt me, telling me that we weren’t as great at keeping it a secret as we thought. I guess he was right after all. But Mama put up such a good front of ignorance. My eyes fall to the floor; my silence is my response.

 

“Miss Trinket,” Mama says in a very measured voice, “would you be so kind as to give my daughter and I a minute?”

 

Effie nods wordlessly, and excuses herself. I don’t think she really understands what’s happening, other than that the engagement is off, and her job here is finished. I suppose she’ll wait for a ride home.

 

Mama sighs, and paces back and forth in front of me for what feels like an eternity. “I tried to ignore it, Katniss,” she says at last. “I told myself that you were just infatuated. That it would go away on its own, and you would never act on it. But now you’ve broken up a perfectly good union just for this Yankee?” she spits the words out. “What’s gotten into you?”

 

When I don’t respond - because really, what can I say that she would ever accept - she closes her eyes and rubs her temples. Then she crosses to the doors, and disappears for a minute. I consider if it would be worth it to make my escape now, before I realize that there is no escaping. Mama reappears a moment later with Haymitch in tow.

 

“Let the cat out of the bag at last, huh, sweetheart?” Haymitch asks gruffly. I just glare at him.

 

“What do we do, Haymitch?” Mama asks him as if I weren’t standing right there.

 

“I think you know what we need to do,” he answers. Mama only glares at him.

 

“How can we?”

 

“Are you really one to judge that?” he shoots back. I have no idea what they’re talking about now, but whatever it is, this seems to get through to Mama. After a moment in which she was likely weighing her choices, she nods. “Katniss,” she turns to me, “please excuse us.”

 

I look at her, open my mouth to question, but she shoots me down. “Now, Katniss,” she commands.

 

More confused than ever, I leave the room. Haymitch is on my heels. I’m about to tell him that I don’t need him to make sure I leave, but he veers off down the hallway as I leave the room. It isn’t me he’s after. Since I’m really at a loss now, all I do is stand there dumbfounded for a minute, in wonder over all that’s happened in the last few minutes.

 

Haymitch returns not much later -- and to my great shock, Peeta is in tow. He looks at me, question evident in his blue eyes, but I have nothing to tell him, no explanation at all. I open my mouth to protest, to beg them not to do anything to him, but they’re inside the room and closing the door in my face before I can get a word out.

 

I’m left alone in my agony. Not knowing what’s about to happen, if I’ll ever see Peeta again after those doors open. Could they kick him out? No, I suppose not. But maybe they could report him to the Union Army, get him transferred out of this house. Anything to get him away from me.

 

Suddenly terrified, I slowly drop to the floor. I pull my legs up to my chest and wrap my arms around my knees, burying my head. My back is against the door, but I can’t hear anything being said inside. Seconds tick by on the grandfather clock down the hallway, but I’m in no state to be keeping track of them. At some point, Prim joins me on the floor, and takes my hand in hers. “It’ll be all right, Katniss,” she tells me. “They’ll see how much you two love each other. Mama loved Pa every bit as much,” she reminds me. It doesn’t occur to me to ask how she knows what’s happening.

 

Prim sits with me in quiet solidarity until finally, finally the doors behind us open again. I glance at the clock, and vaguely see it’s been about an hour since they shut me out. I scramble to my feet as quickly as possible; turn, and see Mama standing there. Her expression is blank.

 

“Come on in, Katniss,” she tells me. After glancing at Prim, who nods, urging me forward, I follow.

 

Mama joins Haymitch in her spot next to him on the sofa. Peeta is standing in front of them in the middle of the room. He looks well -- maybe they weren’t too harsh with him. Maybe they’ll at least let us say goodbye before they separate us. His eyes are wide as I walk in. When I stop, half-way between him and the sofa, he looks over at Mama and Haymitch. He seems to be asking them something silently.

 

“Katniss,” Mama says, “Mr. Mellark has something he’d like to ask you.”

 

“Go on, boy,” Haymitch adds when Peeta makes no move. He seems as bewildered as I am. But Haymitch’s urging seems to wake him up a little. He glances around the room; he looks almost shell-shocked. Then he surprises me by taking a hold of my hand, and nervously leads me away to a more private corner of the room. I look at him, hoping he can see the question that’s in my eyes. Be able to answer it for me.

 

“Katniss Everdeen,” he begins, then stops short, glancing back to Mama and Haymitch. When neither say or do anything, he turns back to me. He takes my hands into his own. And then, to my utter shock, he falls on one knee.

 

“Katniss Everdeen,” he starts again, this time his voice more steady. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

 

“What?” I ask, unbelieving that I’ve heard him correctly. They were ending this, sending him away from me for sure. There’s no way this is happening. But when I look over towards Mama and Haymitch myself, I see Mama nodding at me. Telling me to answer.

 

I look back at Peeta, my mouth fallen open. For a second, all I can do is nod. “Yes,” I manage to get out. And at last, at last, Peeta’s uneasy expression grows into a huge smile. He climbs back to his feet, gathering me in his arms, and for a minute we forget ourselves as we embrace. Then the sound of Mama clearing her throat behind us brings us back to our senses, and we turn to face them.

 

“Haymitch,” Mama says as she rises to her feet, “Will you please give Miss Trinket a ride back to the Hawthorne’s? Her services are no longer needed around here,” she says as she leaves the room.

 

For a long moment, we just stand there, looking at each other. Then, finally, Haymitch rises himself. “It’s about time, you two,” he says brusquely as he turns, but I think I can see the slightest hint of a smile as he does so.

 

“It was his doing,” Peeta explains when we’re finally alone. “I had to ask his permission and work out the details with him. But I think he wanted us to get married.”

 

I have no idea why. Haymitch doesn’t even seem to like me very much. But he has always been nice to Peeta. I suppose if he had to marry me off to somebody, it may as well be somebody he likes. Even if he is a Union soldier.

 

Maybe Haymitch and I understand each other better than I thought.

 

Peeta takes my hand in his. “Come on,” he says. “Now that we’re outed, I want to show you off to everybody.” I smile as I let him lead me out of the room.

 

 

 

 

Peeta makes good on his promise, never leaving my side for the rest of the day. And as time goes on, the smile on his face grows more and more large. Eventually I’m able to relax enough to smile myself.

 

Prim dances about when she finds out, and gives me a big hug. “I knew you two loved each other!” she explains to Peeta happily. The news only seems to make his smile grow more.

 

It doesn’t take long for the other soldiers to deduce what’s happened between Peeta and me. Thresh smiles, and offers Peeta a handshake in congratulations, then gives me a bow. Marvel and Brutus are nowhere near as gentlemanly, but give us their regards nonetheless. They seem curious; I wonder if they had any inkling what was taking place under their own noses, the way I thought Mama did not. Equally likely, they’re wondering how a marriage between a Yankee soldier and a Confederate woman is going to shake out. I don’t want to admit it, but it’s a question I can’t help asking myself.

 

Mama insists on throwing a celebratory supper for us that evening. ‘Celebratory’ doesn’t mean much, under today’s standard -- an extra serving of rabbit is allowed for us, mainly. And Peeta and I are not only allowed to sit together freely now, but we’re expected to. I can tell the shift in dynamic at the table throws Peeta off a bit. In the course of twenty-four hours, he has gone from being an outsider, to being considered a member of the family. He holds tightly onto my hand.

 

“I haven’t had family in years, Katniss,” he explains to me later. “I haven’t sat together as part of one since well before the war.”

 

“I thought you still had your brother and his wife,” I say.

 

“I do. But it’s not the same. They’re a family of their own, and I’m just the third wheel when around them,” he says.

 

“But not anymore,” I say.

 

“No. Not anymore,” he gives me a smile, and then a light kiss. And it’s strange, accepting it, here in the open where anyone can see. It’s going to take some getting used to, being openly betrothed to Peeta now. To have everyone know, and for our business to be out in public. Well, mostly. I’m hoping no one has figured out yet just how far we’ve gone with each other. If they have, no one has let on. I say a prayer that it will stay that way. Not that God will listen to a wicked girl like me.

 

One thing is for sure, though -- Peeta and I will never have another chance to do those things together again until we’re married. Because Mama announces tonight that considering the circumstances, that we’re engaged and not married, and that Peeta can’t very well move out until the Union tells him he can, Prim will be sharing a bed with me until I’m married.

 

I would be lying if I said there wasn’t a part of me that was a little disappointed -- Peeta and I had sworn to each other last night that it would be our final night together until we were married. But maybe there was a small part of me that was hoping that promise would be as in vain as all the ones before. That I would still be able to sneak into Peeta’s room tonight if I wanted, and curl up into him. Feel him close to me. I love my sister, but it isn’t the same.

 

Nevertheless, it’s Prim, not Peeta, who I crawl into bed with that night. Prim is all giggles after the events that have unfolded during the day. I almost think she wants Peeta and I to get married more than we do.

 

“What do you think you’ll wear?” she asks me. “For the wedding, I mean.”

 

“I don’t know, Prim,” I say with a sigh. I haven’t even begun to think that far ahead yet.

 

“Maybe Mama will let you wear the dress she wore to marry Pa,” Prim says. “I’m sure she could alter it.”

 

“I’m sure she could, too,” I say. Talking about clothes bores me to tears.

 

Prim gives me a sly grin. “Is he a good kisser?”

 

“Prim!”

 

She giggles. “Don’t lie and tell me you don’t know!” she says. “I saw you two.”

 

“Prim,” I scold her again, but I can’t help laughing. “Yes. He’s a good kisser.”

 

Prim just smiles at me, then grows quiet as she regards me for some time. “How did you know?” she asks at last.

 

“How did I know what?”

 

“That you were in love with him.” She stares at me with a kind of steadfast intensity.

 

“I don’t know,” I say. I think back on it -- I suppose I knew on some level that I had fallen for him before he ever kissed me that first night together. But I can’t very well tell my little sister it was how willing I was to make love to him that made me realize it. And besides, I wasn’t even sure yet myself that night. “He crept up on me,” is all I say at last.

 

Prim nods, and contemplates this. I want to ask her why she’s so curious that she needs to know this. But after all that’s happened today, and the fact that I slept only for an hour last night, the tendrils of sleep are beginning to pull me under.

 

“Goodnight,” is the last thing I manage to get out. I hear her return it as I drift off to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter before we end part 1! Now Katniss and Peeta are officially engaged, but wait... Gale and the rest of the community still have to find out. So they may not be in the clear just yet.
> 
> If anyone is interested, I had 'A Thousand Years' by Christina Perri on while writing this chapter. That song should set the tone for a lot of scenes here. :)


	10. Chapter 10

I’m awake before Prim the next morning, but that isn’t a surprise. I’ve always woken up before her, even before the servants were gone and it was up to me to make sure food got put on the table. I quickly change into my dress, grateful for the simplicity since all that’s left in the way of undergarments any more are a few chemises. Even if I did still have one of those awful corsets left to wear, I think I would conveniently forget to put it on anyway. They are too confining for a hunt.

 

Mama will probably want me to wear one for the wedding, though. Which means we’ll have to find a way to afford a new one. Really, I’m not even sure what she plans on putting me in for a dress. I say she, because I really couldn’t care less what I wear, and I’m not sure Peeta does, either. The easier to get me out of it, the happier Peeta will be, anyway.

 

For now, I button up my blouse, and then slip a wrap on around my shoulders. It’s dark out still, which means it will likely be chilly. And I need to retrieve the potatoes I traded some of my game for from the cellar. Lately I’ve found that most any of the neighborhood is willing to trade something for a good piece of meat. And just because they think Peeta caught itdoesn’t mean I can’t be the one to haggle.

 

I’m right about the cold outside. I accomplish my task as quickly as possible and get back inside, where I immediately set to work on starting a fire. When it’s roaring, and I’ve taken a few moments to thaw myself out first,I set to work on breakfast. I grate the potatoes and add them to a pan I have heating on the stove. Next, I chop up some wild onions I gathered recently, some butter I traded for, a grouse stock I prepared earlier, and some chopped up rabbit. Soon, the concoction is sizzling.

 

Then I hear the door to the kitchen open and turn to find Peeta leaning against the frame, smiling at me. “Good morning,” he says to me.

 

“Good morning,” I answer, and without even thinking about it I feel a grin stretch out across my own face.  We stand there for a minute like that, neither one of us saying anything. Maybe neither one of us even knows what to say. We were thrown so abruptly from our secret relationship to being publicly engaged that we’re both a little thrown off.

 

But Peeta recovers quickly, and crosses the distance between us to give me a kiss. Not on the lips, but a chaste one on the cheek. I guess he was serious about conducting ourselves with honor from now on. But a moment later, I feel his arm wrap around me; pull me into him. “What are you making?” he asks.

 

“A hash,” I say. Then I look up into his blue eyes. “Will you make biscuits?”

 

Peeta’s smile only grows wider. “Of course,” he says, and presses a kiss on my forehead before he turns me loose to gather the ingredients.

  
  


We work side by side in a comfortable silence as we prepare breakfast together. Then, while we wait for the biscuits to bake, Peeta sits in a chair and pulls me into his lap. It’s still not the most proper position for us, but it’s better than the other things we’ve done, and no one is awake yet it seems, and besides, I remind myself, we’re officially engaged to be married now anyway. So while Peeta gently strokes my hair, I lean my head down on his shoulder.

 

“I’m so happy,” Peeta says quietly after a minute. All I can do is smile, and kiss him on his cheek.

 

“Katniss,” he begins, and looks down at me. “I want to ask you something about the wedding...”

 

I raise my head a bit at this and look at him curiously.

 

“I was thinking... I’d like my brother and his family to be there, if it’s possible. Would you mind holding off on it until they can be here?”

 

Oh, is that all. I give him a sweet smile.

 

“Of course,” I say. He waited so long for me that I don’t know how I could deny him this even if I wanted to. Besides, they’ll be my family, soon, too. I’d like to meet them myself.

 

A thought occurs to me. “Will they be surprised to hear you’re getting married, Peeta?”

 

He looks a bit sheepish. “Not exactly...” he says. I lift my head again and look at him, interested. “I’ve sort of been writing about you. Us,” he corrects himself. “This.”

 

I frown at him. “What exactly have you been telling them?” I ask.

 

“Please, don’t be upset, Katniss!” he pleads. “I just told them what you were like. That I was in love with you, and wanted to marry you if you would have me. I didn’t tell them anything less than honorable, I promise.”

 

I let out a sigh as I take this in. I believe Peeta when he says he would never tell them about... well, about how intimate we’ve been with each other. But what do they know? Do they know about Gale? That it took so long to break things off with him, even after I promised myself to Peeta?

 

What do they think of me?

 

“Don’t worry,” he says, “they’ll love you.”

 

I’m not convinced, but I try to let the apprehension go. There’s no point in worrying about it now, I suppose. And maybe I should trust Peeta not to say anything too incriminating. He’s covered for me in every other way as it is.

 

But we don’t get a chance to discuss it further, because Peeta has to check on the biscuits, and then footsteps coming down the stairway tell us we’re not alone for much longer, and before long, the day blossoms into its usual business. Before I know it, Peeta is in his blue Union uniform, pulling me to him for a kiss goodbye before he leaves for the day. I’m a little apprehensive still, kissing him out in the open like this, but I remind myself again that it’s okay; everyone knows about us now.

 

I set about my chores for the day, finding it easier to concentrate on them than it’s been for a while, now that the strain of hiding my relationship with Peeta is off me. I’m not sure how long it is before Prim finds me, an apprehensive look on her face. “What’s wrong?” I ask her.

 

“You have a visitor,” she answers, but her expression is still unreadable.

 

“A visitor?” I ask. I wasn’t expecting anybody to come calling today.

 

Prim nods. “Mr. Hawthorne is waiting for you in the parlor.”

 

Gale? I feel something dark drop in my stomach. Gale has no reason to be here. No good reason, at least. Not unless...  and I feel that thing drop further. Effie. I had forgotten completely that she witnessed what happened yesterday.” And if Gale’s here, that can only mean that she went home and told him about what she saw. So now I will have to tell Gale everything. I was always going to, but I hadn’t quite worked out what I was going to tell him. I still haven’t. I linger outside the door to the parlor for a few minutes as I try to work it out, when I feel someone take hold of my arm roughly, causing me to jump.

 

“Better let me chaperone you in here, sweetheart,” Haymitch says gruffly.

 

I’m still reeling, but I nod. Despite the fact that it’s Haymitch, for some reason the thought of him being in there with me is comforting.

 

We enter the room together, and there’s Gale, sitting on the very same sofa that got me in this mess in the first place.

 

“Gale,” I say, pausing awkwardly in front of him. “Can I get you anything?”

 

Gale fixes me with a steely stare before he speaks. “I just want the truth from you, Katniss.”

 

I nod, and trembling, perch myself on the edge of a chair. There’s an even longer silence while Gale looks at me, a deep frown on his face. Maybe he’s trying to decide what to say. I don’t know. But I wish whatever it was, he would say it so we could get this over with.

 

Finally, he speaks. “Effie delivered some interesting news when she arrived home yesterday.” I nod, not quite sure how to play my card. I decide to go for what I hope is a neutral expression. He continues. “According to her, it seems some congratulations are in order here. Apparently you are to become the future Mrs. Peeta Mellark.”

 

And finally, my eyes fall to the floor.

 

“Then it’s true?” Gale asks. I glance over at Haymitch, hoping for some guidance, but he only stares back at me. I turn my attention back to Gale and nod. Gale closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I don’t believe you, Katniss,” he says. “I never wanted to believe you could go behind my back like this-”

 

“Going behind your back?” I shoot back quickly, suddenly feeling irritated. “You were in love with Madge, remember? You didn’t even love me!”

 

“It’s not about love, Katniss, don’t you understand? It’s about trust!” Gale’s voice has risen quite a bit, but I don’t back down, grateful for this courage that’s appeared out of nowhere.

 

“Trust?” I say. “You’re one to talk about trust, when you proposed to me knowing you didn’t even love me. That you loved someone else, nonetheless!”

 

Gale sits back for a minute, taking me in with a cool demeanor, but I can still see the fire raging in his eyes. “Were you ever going to tell me?” he asks at last.

 

“Were you ever going to tell me about Madge?”

 

He raises an eyebrow, but I can tell I have him there. Still, he comes bouncing back. “I never went behind your back with her, Katniss. Not only did you do so with me, but you’ve done so with the person I trust the least.”

 

“Peeta isn’t untrustworthy,” I say.

 

“Really?” Gale says, and sits forward so that he’s looking me square in the eye. “He’s a Yankee, Katniss. The Yankees said they weren’t here to punish us, but here it is nearly a year later, and folks are still starving, people still suffering. And all the Union boys do is rub our noses in what we lost!”

 

“Peeta doesn’t do that!” I insist.

 

“Maybe not to you,” Gale says. “But he sure had no problem taking a wife away from a Southern man, did he?”

 

I’m stunned, mostly because I know what he’s accusing Peeta of is all wrong. Of course, Peeta didn’t steal me --  I fell in love with him on my own, slowly, without even realizing I was doing so until I was confronted with this fact that first night we spent together. But would Gale ever believe me? “He didn’t steal me,” I say. “I fell for him.”

 

“That doesn’t make me feel much better, Katniss,” Gale says darkly. “Don’t you remember what his side did to us? You might want to ask that fiance of yours what he was doing in Atlanta last he was there.”

 

There’s no good answer to that. Even if I admit that Peeta and I have talked about it, that I know the role he played, it will only make things look worse. And something tells me Gale either won’t believe me or won’t care if I try to tell him how much it haunts Peeta about what he did there.

 

After I’m silent for a long while, Gale climbs to his feet.”Well, good luck to you in your union, Mrs. Peeta Mellark,” he spits out. “But you should probably know that the resentment towards his kind runs deeper than you may realize. Not everyone had the fortune of becoming as nice and cozy with their Yankee houseguest as you did.”

 

“Gale-” I start.

 

“Mr. Hawthorne,” he says curtly, and dismisses himself from the room without another word. I can only sit in stunned silence for a long minute, studying my hands as I try to absorb everything exchanged in the last few minutes. It’s only when I hear the rustling of his limbs as he stretches them out that I even remember Haymitch is in the room.

 

He’s chuckling as he looks at me. “Well, you handled that one real well, sweetheart.”

 

“I thought you were supposed to help me.” I glare at him.

 

“And miss out on that show? Not for the world.” He gives me a sardonic grin.

 

“You’ve been more hindrance than help ever since you got here,” I say with a frown.

 

Haymitch feigns a hurt expression. “That’s rough, sweetheart. I only have your best intentions at heart.”

 

I want to say something else, get in another jab at him, but instead I feel my shoulders slump. “Peeta isn’t like Gale says, Haymitch.”

 

His face grows serious. “I know,” he admits. “Goodness knows the kid is the most decent human being I’ve met in a long time. But you can’t go around thinking just because he’s good, every other Billy Yank is like him deep down inside.”

 

“Then how do I get Gale to see he’s different?” I ask.

 

“You don’t. You just worry about that wedding of yours. You know, your mother asked me if I wanted to give you away? I told her, the sooner the better!”

 

“Funny,” I say as I roll my eyes. “I’m going back to my chores.”

 

But even as I do,  I can’t shake the chill that runs down my back every time I revisit Gale’s confrontation in my mind. I’m still thinking about it that night, when Peeta returns home and pulls me in for a kiss hello. It’s on my mind all through supper, even as I try to help him navigate the awkward waters of conversation with my family at the table. I’m still lost in thought as we sit in the parlor, hand in hand, making casual conversation as Haymitch chaperones.

 

But I can tell Peeta knows I’m distracted by the way he looks at me. So when Haymitch, who has apparently decided there’s only so much trouble we can get into sitting in the open for everyone to see, finally nods off with a loud snore, Peeta finally asks. “What’s wrong?”

 

I shake my head and tell him nothing, but he’s not convinced. When he asks again, I take in a deep breath.

 

“Gale came by today... “ I begin.

 

I don’t need to say more. Understanding dawns in those blue eyes of his immediately. “Oh,” he says. “What did he want?” But it’s clear that Peeta already knows.

 

“To congratulate me on our engagement,” I say simply.

 

Peeta nods, and checks around, maybe to make sure we’re truly clear to have this conversation now. “So how upset was he?”

 

“Pretty upset,” I say. And with that admission, I finally give in to the burden that’s been weighing on me all day. Peeta squeezes my hand, then dares to wrap an arm around me tight as I lean into him.

 

“It’ll be all right,” he assures me as he gently rubs his hand up and down my arm.

 

“He said terrible things about you, Peeta,” I confess.

 

“He was just angry,” he tells me, but I can hear an edge of doubt in his voice.

 

“No. It was worse than that,” I say. “He thinks you stole me from him because you’re a Yankee. Because you want to steal from and mock us!”

 

To my great surprise, Peeta starts laughing. “So did Finnick Odair, remember? In fact, if I recall correctly, I seem to remember you accusing me of the same thing once.”

 

I look down at my hands, suddenly feeling embarrassed, but a small smile plays at my lips. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly.

 

“Don’t be. I understand why you felt that way. I really do. I’m just happy you came around,” he kisses me on my cheek.

 

I relax a little in his grip. “Haymitch says I shouldn’t assume the others are all like you, though.”

 

“Haymitch is right,” he says. “And not just about the Union, I imagine. War changes a person.”

 

I look up at him curiously. And finally, I ask him the question that’s been eating at me since before Peeta ever walked into my life. “What happened out there, Peeta?”

 

He lets out a long breath. “You don’t want to know,” he says. But one look at me tells him how much I truly do. So, which a shaky voice, Peeta begins to tell me as much detail as he can stand, weaving a tapestry of violence and sadness I never could have imagined in my wildest dreams.

 

“Why do we go to war at all, if it’s this bad?” I whisper when he’s finished.

 

He gives me a small smile. “Because sometimes we get a notion in our head that there are things we’ll do anything to protect.”

 

“Are there?” I ask.

 

Peeta gives me a long look before he answers, as though he’s trying to decide on something. “Yes.” His arm slides back around as he slips his hand into mine. “But if we’re not careful, we’re all going to destroy each other.”

 

I want to ask him more, but right then, Haymitch startles himself awake with an extra loud snore. So we all decide it’s best to retire for the evening. I don’t question it when Peeta embraces me longer than usual before we part.

  
  
  
  


Peeta comes home around noon the next day, and surprises me  by the back door. “What are you doing home so early?” I ask him.

 

“I got permission to come home to enjoy dinner with you.” He gives me a tight-lipped smile.

 

“Are you feeling well?” I ask. He looks pale and distracted.

 

“I’m fine,” he mumbles. It’s not very convincing, but he still grabs my hand and presses it against his lips when I reach up to feel his forehead for fever.

 

“Are you sure?” I press.

 

“Yes,” he says, and pushes past me into the kitchen. I’m perplexed as I turn to follow him, until something occurs to me. Something that makes my heart fall at the very thought.

 

“Is it the... memories again?” I ask him.

 

“No,” he says, but he looks thoughtful, as though the idea hadn’t quite occurred to him before. But before I get a chance to ask him more, Mama bustles into the kitchen, putting a halt on the conversation.

 

“Oh, good. You’re both here,” she says when she sees us standing together. “I’ve been meaning to have a talk with you about the wedding.”

 

Peeta and I exchange a glance, curious.

 

“I think it’s best if we continue to hold the ceremony around the beginning of March, as we were before. Would that be all right with you?”

 

“Sure,” I nod, and look over at Peeta. I’m expected to see him smiling, to see him elated at the prospect of our wedding being held so soon. Instead, I’m surprised to find him frowning.

 

“That’s only a few weeks away...” he says.

 

Mama nods. “That’s right. I think the sooner it’s held, the better.”

 

“I was just hoping we might have time for my brother and his family to travel down to attend,” Peeta says.

 

Mama’s brow furrows. “Where would they be traveling from?” she asks.

 

“Nebraska. They’re the only family I have left,” he explains. “I haven’t seen them since before the war.”

 

“I see,” Mama says, nodding slowly as she considers it. “Well, I suppose we can try for it. But I don’t want to wait too long. If they can’t make it down in a few weeks, we may need to go ahead without them.”

 

It’s Peeta’s turn to nod now. I can’t read his expression. But he seems distracted. “I’m going to go wash up, Katniss,” he says to me, and pecks me on my cheek. When he’s gone, I turn to Mama.

 

“Why is it so important we hold the wedding soon?” Surely she knows I’m not planning on breaking up another engagement.

 

She doesn’t even look at me when she answers. “Things happen, Katniss,” she says mysteriously. “If the wedding isn’t appropriately timed, there could be more talk than there already will be.”

 

“Talk about what?” I ask. She isn’t making any sense now. But she doesn’t give me an answer. Not a straight one, at least.

 

“We’ll have Prim take over your more strenuous chores,” she tells me instead. “You shouldn’t be over-exerting yourself.” And with that, she excuses herself from the room.

 

Over-exerting myself? Why would we be worried about that? And all this conversation about people talking. It doesn’t make a lick of sense. The only reason I can think to combine the two is... and it hits me.

 

With child. She thinks I am with child.

 

My eyes widen in horror at the revelation, and that dark thing I felt in my stomach yesterday returns. Bad. This is bad. What would make her think that? Does she know? Have Peeta and I not been as careful, as quiet as we thought we were? Is she speculating? Or... is it possible I’m showing signs that I’m not aware of? Mama is the healer, not me. She would recognize them before I would. I search my memory and try to think of some abnormality I’ve noticed in the last few days, but can think of nothing.

 

It can’t be true, though. Isn’t this why Peeta bought the condom in the first place? To prevent this very thing from happening?

 

Peeta returns, and suggests a picnic lunch. I agree, and together we pack some food, grab a blanket, and head out. Our picnic is awfully subdued, however. It’s apparent how lost in thought we both are. So much so, that when Peeta breaks the silence, I nearly jump out of my skin. “What’s on your mind?” he asks.

 

I look at him, and let out a slow, unsteady breath. “I found out why Mama wants the wedding so soon,” I say.

 

He looks interested, but doesn’t say anything. So I continue, unable to meet his eyes, and playing with a clump of grass near my feet. “She thinks I... may be with child.”

 

Peeta’s forehead wrinkles. “Why does she think that?”

 

“I don’t know. She didn’t exactly say. Just that it was better to hold the wedding sooner, just in case.”

 

“Oh, is that all?” he says, and shifts his weight. He looks out at some invisible object across the way.

 

“What do you mean, is that all?” I ask. “She suspects what we’ve been doing! She thinks a child could be on the way!”

 

“Do you?” he asks.

 

“Do I what?”

 

“Do you think you could be with child?”

 

“I... don’t know. I don’t think so,” I say. “But Mama knows about these things much better than I do.”

 

“I don’t know, Katniss,” he says. “We’ve been careful.”

 

For some reason, Peeta’s whole attitude about this irritates me. “You don’t even care!” I burst out. “I could be carrying your child, and you don’t even care!”

 

Peeta just stares at me, bewildered, for a moment. Probably because I’ve broken yet another taboo by speaking so freely about my potential condition. But I don’t care. If there’s a chance I’m about to become a mother, then I need Peeta here to be the father. I can’t do it alone.

 

I see an array of emotions cross his face -- including anger -- but at last he arrives at a more compassionate one as he reaches out to take my hand in his. “I care more than anything,” he says quietly. He looks like he wants to say more, but nothing comes out. Maybe he thought better of whatever he was going to say.

 

“All right,” I say. I keep my eyes trained completely on my food in the long silence that ensues.

 

“Katniss,” Peeta finally says. I glance up; the distressed expression on his face surprises me. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry I’ve compromised you.”

 

I don’t know what to say, so I only nod. We finish our lunch in silence, but as we’re passing the smoke house on our way back, Peeta stops and pulls me into a tight embrace, kissing me with a kind of heat I don’t think I’ve ever felt from him before. “I love you,” he repeats over and over again, like he’s afraid he’ll never get a chance to say it again. I’m confused about where this is coming from, but I accept his affection and whisper the words back to him.

  
  
  


Peeta is late coming home. At first, I think nothing of it. I know that sometimes his duty can pull him away for longer periods at a time. But when the sun has set and even Marvel and Brutus have returned, I know something is amiss.

 

I’m trying to finish supper with Prim’s help, but I keep going outside every few minutes to check on him. No words from Prim help. With the way he was behaving earlier, and now his lack of appearance, something is wrong.

 

Even Haymitch notices. “Where’s the kid?” he asks when he stalks through in search of a spare drop of liquor.

 

I just shake my head. Prim gives a worried glance in my direction, then calmly tells him, “He hasn’t returned yet.”

 

“You looking for Lover Boy?” a voice taunts. We turn, and Marvel and Brutus are both standing in the doorway. I nod.

 

“Do you know where he is?”

 

Brutus folds his arms, and looks me over as he leans against the doorway. “We do.”

 

I give them a pointed look. Of course, I want them to go on.

 

“We should tell her,” Brutus says. “He’s doing it for her.”

 

I have no idea what they’re talking about, but I’m not sure I like it.

 

“Lover Boy is out defending your good name,” Marvel says. “Some of the boys around here challenged him to a duel earlier today over his engagement to you.”

 

Horrified, I exchange a glance with Haymitch as the full implications settle in.

 

“Where are they, boy?” Haymitch asks gruffly. Marvel is so startled by Haymitch’s turn in demeanor that he answers.

 

“That meadow up the road,” he says.

 

He doesn’t even need to explain further -- I know exactly which meadow he’s talking about. It’s a common one for children to play in. I played there myself with Gale and Finnick when I was younger, and Prim, too, when she was old enough. But now it’s to become a place for a much more sinister kind of game.

 

“Go,” Haymitch commands. He doesn’t have to say another word before I’m out of the house, racing across the empty fields as fast as my legs can possibly carry me. My heart is in my throat and beating wildly. _Please, let me make it_ , I beg. Then I let all thought go as I’m consumed by only an animal instinct, propelling me through the evening air.

 

At last I reach the field, and they’re there, and they’re only pacing, and I’ve made it, I think, I’ve made it in time to stop them if I can just get to them before they’re through. I have to distract them. So I do, in the only way I know how.

 

“Peeta!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Peeta!” And it works. I’ve distracted him.

 

My scream lodges in my throat as he crumples to the ground.

 

**END PART 1**

  
**  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... so... sorry about the wait. This chapter took a long time to write, and you can probably see why. ;) But I promise, I won't make you wait as long to find out what happens next!
> 
> HUGE thanks to my betas, bigbigbigday006 and allies-person for their help! The whole story would be nothing without them, but their support and guidance on this chapter in particular was wonderful!


	11. Chapter 11

“PEETA!” I scream as soon as the shock has worn off. “PEETA!” And I cross the rest of the distance between us in record time.

 

Peeta is curled up on the ground, holding one leg tightly against him. I can see the red liquid filtering through his fingers, seeping into a crimson pool beneath him. I’m so frantic I barely know what to do first, so I just fling my arms around him. The fact that he’s alive, that I can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, has just barely begun to register for me. I can hear him say my name with a groan. “Katniss.”

 

“Peeta.” It’s all I can get out, mainly because I’m beginning to make those awful choking sounds I make when I sob. I become vaguely aware that someone is gently pulling at my arms, and when I look up, Thresh is looking back at me. Concern and understanding are on his face. “We have to get him up,” he says gently.

 

“No,” I insist, and wrap my arms even tighter around him. “He needs to rest!”

 

Thresh takes a deep breath, but before he can say another word, another voice rings out. “Out of the way, Catnip.” The sight of Finnick hovering above me puts me immediately on the defense. I cover Peeta’s body with my own the best I can. If they want to finish the job, they’ll have to go through me first.

 

“Katniss, move if you want to help him!” Finnick’s tone has become urgent, but my mind is swimming and all I can do is glare up at him as the tears begin to splash down my cheeks. l I feel someone’s arms on me, forcing me away.

 

“Get off of her!” I hear Gale roar, and Thresh has to let me go to ward off his oncoming attack. But in the short span of time he was able to pry me off of Peeta, Finnick has moved in. He’s doing something to Peeta’ leg; I can’t quite tell what it is. What I would give to have my bow and arrows with me now.

 

“Stop fighting him, Gale!” Finnick barks out.

 

Gale does, and looks over at Finnick curiously, though the anger does not leave him. “Whose second do you think you are, Finnick?” he shoots back.

 

“He’s hurt, Gale!” Finnick glares over his shoulder.

 

“Has everyone gone mad?” Gale wonders out loud. “Are you ready to polish Lincoln’s boots, Finnick?”

 

“I’m doing it for Katniss!” Finnick finally screams. “Can’t you see how much we’ve hurt her?!”

 

“Why should I be worried about hurting her, when she had no problem hurting me?”

 

“You got your point across, Gale! If you’re not going to help, then get out of here!”

 

It doesn’t take much for Gale to make his choice.With a final comment about traitors for the North, he stomps away. I’m too shocked to even process what’s just happened in the last few minutes, so for now I tear my eyes away from the spot Gale disappeared to the sight of Finnick and Thresh helping a weakened Peeta to his feet. Finnick has a makeshift bandage around his leg, but already I can see blood leaking through. I scramble to my feet quickly and join them.

 

Peeta has one arm around either neck, and he’s able to walk for a little ways. But even in the pale light, I can tell his face is growing white. Eventually he falters, then slips to the ground altogether. Finnick and Thresh use the opportunity to catch their breath.

 

I round in front of them, and kneel down in front of Peeta, taking his hands in mine. I try my best to shove aside the hysteria, blinking the tears out of my eyes. “You have to keep going,” I tell him. I push the hair and sweat out of his eyes. “We’ll get you home. Mama and Prim are the best healers around. You’ll be fine then.”

 

“I don’t know, Katniss,” Finnick says darkly. “That was a rifle Gale used. I think he’s going to need a doctor.”

 

All I can do is glare up at him. I suppose he would know, wouldn’t he? First Finnick helps Gale with this duel, and then he delivers this news. I want to yell vicious things at him. But I can’t. He’s here, isn’t he? He’s still trying to help Peeta, even after his role as Gale’s second. I really don’t know where his allegiances lay anymore, but I suppose for now it doesn’t matter. I turn my attention back to Peeta. “Do you think you can stand up yet?”

 

Peeta nods and despite our company, I lean in and kiss him on his cheek. Thresh and Finnick help him to his feet. But a few yards further, he’s back on the ground again.

 

“It’s no use,” Finnick tells Thresh. “We’ll have to carry him.” Thresh nods, and after discussing the best way to do it, Finnick helps hoist Peeta onto Thresh’s back. We’ve barely begun our trek again, when a figure appears on the road a little ways up. Thinking it’s Haymitch, I immediately begin to wave. But as the distance closes between us, something seems off.

 

“Put your arm down, Katniss,” Finnick says in a strange voice. I obey, but I’m not sure if it’s because his tone has caught me off guard, or if the whole situation has. We stand silently for a minute while we watch the figure grow closer, until finally I make out who it is. It’s Coriolanus Snow, who doesn’t live too far from here.

 

“Hello there,” he says, and his narrow eyes glance over the men beside me, lingering a little on Thresh in particular. “Do you need some help?”

 

I’m about to open my mouth and respond, when I feel Finnick place his hand on my arm, a reminder to let him do the talking. “Sure,” Finnick says tentatively.

 

“Of course, I couldn’t help you carry this poor young man,” Snow continues, “but I can go on ahead and find someone who can.”

 

Finnick briefly exchanges a glance with me, then nods his head. “Better than nothing,” he mumbles. Snow nods and turns around, and with a wave of his hand calls out, “I won’t be long!”

 

When he’s a far enough distance away, I turn back to Finnick, ready to ask for further explanation. Instead, I only say, “Well, that was... helpful.”

 

Finnick gives a short nod, then glances back to Peeta. “We’d better get a move on,” he says. “Peeta’s gonna need your mother to look after him at this rate.” One glance at Peeta confirms this. No, really, it’s more of an understatement. Peeta is the palest I’ve ever seen him, and he’s still losing a lot of blood; the bandage Finnick tied is nearly soaked. Peeta is probably going to need more than my mother and Prim, I realize.

 

“Let’s go,” I urge, and with a heavy heart I move forward. We make it another quarter mile before Thresh has to stop to rest, and Finnick volunteers to trade. Peeta, though otherwise all but unconscious, lets out a loud groan during the transfer that nearly crushes me. I decide to stay close to Finnick’s side. As we begin to move again, I slip my hand into Peeta’s, hoping he’s still coherentenough for the act to register, and hoping he finds some sort of comfort in it. When his fingers tighten in my grip, I can’t help giving a small smile.

 

It’s not long before we meet Haymitch at last--and Snow is at his side, casually filling him in on the details. Haymitch is nodding as he listens, but when his eyes rest on us, he wastes no time in breaking away from the conversation and rushing towards us.

 

“How bad was it?” he asks as he looks Peeta over.

 

“In the leg,” Finnick answers. “I got a bandage on him, but we have to get him help fast. I think he’s going to need a doctor.”

 

Haymitch nods, and turns to Thresh. “You have a doctor in that Yank army of yours?”

 

“Yes,” Thresh says. “I can bring him over immediately. I know where he stays.”

 

“Go,” Haymitch says, and Thresh takes off down the road without wasting another second.

 

Haymitch turns back to Finnick and asks if he’s all right to carry Peeta the rest of the way. “I think so,” Finnick says, so we set out to finish the trip: Finnick carrying Peeta on his back, me clasping tightly to Peeta’s hand, Haymitch and, curiously enough, Snow taking up the back. A shiver runs up my spine for some reason.

 

When we finally reach the house, Prim is outside on the porch waiting for us. When she sees us, and stands immediately. “Mama!” she calls back into the house, and Mama joins her almost immediately, gathering up her skirts and rushing down the porch stairs to meet us as we make it up the pathway.

 

“What happened?” she asks Haymitch.

 

“Damn kids fooling around with guns,” he says, but I can tell by the look on Mama’s face that she knows the truth.

 

“Let’s get him inside,” she says, and the group follows her, Prim joining us as we reach the porch. In the house, we direct Finnick towards Peeta’s room, where, with all of the delicacy he can muster, Finnick gently lays Peeta down on his bed. Instinctively I move forward to embrace him, wanting to take his hand in mine and ask if he’s all right, but Mama shoos me away before I get to.

 

“But, Mama-” I begin to protest.

 

“Wait outside, Katniss,” she says, that tone in her voice that she takes on when she’s about to tend to a patient and the rest of the world melts away from her consciousness. But before she slips into it completely, her eyes absently lay on a spot just outside Peeta’s door. “Why don’t you see if Mr. Snow would care for some tea?” she says absently, and then I lose her.

 

It takes a good moment for the words to sink in. Finnick grabs me by the arm and escorts me out. “Come on, let your mother work, Katniss,” he says to me. “Let’s get tea for Mr. Snow.”

 

“Mr. Snow?” I stammer, looking over my shoulder to where Mama and Prim are tending to my fiance until someone closes the door behind me. My vision blocked at last, I turn back to where Snow stands in the hallway. “Would you like some tea?” I mumble.

 

Snow smiles. “That would be wonderful,” he says. I nod and set down the hallway, towards the kitchen, lost in thought. So much so, that I don’t even realize Finnick has followed me until he closes the door with a thud behind me, causing me to jump.

 

“Don’t trust him,” he says.

 

This makes me come back into the present, all the details rushing into my mind with a crisp clarity. “Don’t trust who?” I ask. “Peeta? He was defending me! It’s you who I- “

 

“No,” Finnick interrupts. “I mean Snow. Don’t trust him. He was the one who suggested the duel in the first place.”

 

“What?” I ask, and I take a step backwards to steady myself against the stove. “Why would he do that?”

 

“He doesn’t like them,” Finnick answers. “The Yanks, I mean. He wants them out of here.”

 

“So he told Gale to shoot Peeta?” I ask, disbelieving.

 

“You know how quickly news travels around here, Katniss. The whole community knows you’re engaged to Peeta, and before you even had announced your engagement with Gale was off. Rumors are already sparking. Gale is under a lot of pressure to explain things and preserve his honor. So Snow suggested that he...” Finnick trails off.

 

“So Snow suggested he challenge Peeta to a duel to reclaim it,” I finish.

 

Finnick nods. “Snow isn’t happy about your engagement, Katniss.”

 

I frown and turn away from him. “What business is it of his, anyhow?

 

“He’s a powerful man, Katniss.”

 

That’s true. Only Madge Undersee’s father rivals him when it comes to wealth, even these days, and he doesn’t come close to comparing when it comes to influence on the neighbors. And all this talk about honor... my hand rests on my stomach, and I think for the first time since this afternoon of the child that might be growing in there. What will I do if something happens to Peeta and he leaves me with our child to raise alone? At this rate, I couldn’t stay in this community if it came true. I start panicking a little at the thought, until Finnick brings me back to reality. “Katniss?” he asks quietly.

 

“What should we do?” I whisper.

 

“There’s not much you can do, right now. Just don’t trust him,” Finnick says.

 

I turn back around so that I’m facing him. “And why should I trust you? You were Gale’s second, Finnick! And now you’re helping me?”

 

Finnick’s face twists painfully. “Katniss... look, I... “ He seems sufficiently tongue-tied, but the sound of the front door opening interrupts. Without a second glance, I take off back down the hall and find Thresh entering with two men I’ve never seen before in tow.

 

“Is this the doctor?” I ask Thresh. He nods, but doesn’t say anything.

 

“Which way?” one of them asks me, and I lead him to Peeta’s bedroom. I knock on the door and after a moment, Prim answers the door. “It’s the doctor,” I tell her. Prim nods and opens the door further, allowing us entrance. When Mama sees who has arrived, she takes a step back to let him evaluate Peeta. I want to stay, too, but the first glimpse of blood and ripped fleshI catch sight of and Ibegin to heave. Prim has to escort me back outside the room, and Haymitch walks me down the hall and sits me down in the parlor. Finnick and Snow join us.

 

Time passes by slowly. The three make awkward idle chit chat, but I can only chew my nails in a pathetic attempt to calm my nerves. Mama would scold me for doing something so unladylike, but I really don’t care right now. Two more join us. I glance up and see that it’s Thresh and the other man who arrived with him that I don’t recognize. But considering his uniform, it’s clear he’s a Union soldier too, though maybe one of higher status than Peeta and Thresh are.

 

“Captain Boggs,” he says, offering a hand to Haymitch, who accepts it with a sturdy shake in return. “Lieutenant Mellark is in my company.”

 

“Haymitch Abernathy,” Haymitch says. “My niece here is the kid’s new fiancée.” I look up when he mentions me and try to smile at Boggs. I think I mainly manage not to frown, though.

 

“Oh, so you’re the little woman who started this great war, huh?” Boggs says, and offers me a grin. I must look confused, because he explains himself. “It’s something Lincoln said... never mind. Mellark is your fiancé, you say?”

 

“That’s right,” I nod

 

“Can you tell me what happened?”

 

I do, with Finnick and Thresh filling in for me where I can’t. Boggs listens in silence until the story is finally finished, then crosses his arms. “You got yourselves into a mess of trouble, didn’t you?” he mutters under his breath. The others all make sounds of agreement, except for Snow. After Finnick’s story, I can’t help finding this unsettling.

 

We hear footsteps, and look up to see the doctor coming down the hall. He’s wiping his hands on a spare rag. “Well, I got the bullet out,” he addresses the room. “It’s too soon to tell if more will need to be done, but he should be fine for the time being. You can go in and see him now,” he tells me.

 

Wasting no time, I’m on my feet and down the hall so quickly that I’m almost dizzy. The door is cracked open, the dull light from the fireplace casting a soft glow on the floor just outside. In the room, Mama and Prim are cleaning up, and this time neither one of them turn me away. I make my way over to the bed, where Peeta lays with his eyes closed. He’s breathing steadily. That’s good, at least. I stroke his hair with the back of my hand. “Peeta?” I ask quietly, but there’s no response.

 

“He’s asleep,” Mama tells me. “It’s the best thing for him right now.”

 

I nod, and carefully perch myself on the side of his bed, taking his warm hand in mine. I sit quietly like that for some time, while Mama and Prim finish up around me. “Come to bed, Katniss,” Mama tells me when they’re finished.

 

“No,” I say. “What if he wakes up?”

 

“He shouldn’t,” Mama says. “I gave him something to put him to sleep before the doctor got here. And he’s had quite a bit happen to him. He should be out for the night.”

 

“Come on, Katniss,” Prim says lightly, and takes me free hand in her own. “We’ll take care of him if he wakes up. Let’s go to bed.”

 

It takes a moment, but finally I agree, letting Prim lead me out of the room by hand. Out in the hallway, Snow, Finnick, Boggs and the doctor have all taken their leave, and Haymitch and Thresh have both retired for the evening themselves. That leaves just us. Prim and I climb the stairs together, change into our nightgowns together, crawl into bed together. Then Prim wraps her arms around me. It’s the first comfort I’ve felt in what feels like ages, so at last, I give in to the fatigue that’s consuming me.

 

My sleep that night is anything but peaceful. My dream consists of me running, covering those same tracks to try and reach Peeta before it’s too late. Only it seems like no matter how hard I try, I can’t move fast enough. And when I finally do reach him, the scenery changes, and suddenly I’m out on a battlefield, watching my father get shot. Then Peeta is there, trying to help, but he’s shot himself. I let out a scream at the sight of both of them crumpled on the ground, gone forever. Then gentle hands are shaking me, and a voice is calling my name. I open my eyes, and barely make out Prim in the dim light of our room.

 

“Wake up, Katniss,” she’s telling me in a soothing voice. “It’s just a dream. Everything is all right.”

 

Blinking, I sit up. “I had a nightmare,” I say.

 

“It’s all right,” she repeats. “You’re awake now.”

 

“What time is it?” I ask.

 

“It’s just about dawn. I was about to get up to check on Peeta. Do you want to come with me?”

 

“Yes,” I say, nodding eagerly. Of course I want to go with her. Both of us climb out of bed, freshen ourselves with water, and quickly dress. Then we quietly head to Peeta’s room.

 

He’s still asleep when we get there, so while Prim tends to the wound, I stir up the embers in his fireplace. “Katniss,” Prim calls me over after a few minutes. Peeta is beginning to stir, so I gently sit on the side of the bed, taking care to stay out of Prim’s way, and wait for him to wake.

 

When those blue eyes of his finally open, I smile down at him. “Katniss?” he asks, and I nod. Then his eyes drift down to where Prim works, taking her in with curiosity.

 

“Prim is tending to your wound,” I explain. “The doctor was able to get the bullet out last night.”

 

“Oh,” Peeta says, and rests his head back on the pillow. “Are you all right?” he asks me.

 

I have to laugh at this question, despite everything. “Me?” I ask right back. “You’re the one who got shot.”

 

“I know. But I know it had to have been hard for you to deal with,” he says.

 

Well, isn’t that an interesting revelation? He knew how much it would worry me, and yet... he did it anyway. “Then why’d you do it?” I ask, growing angry.

 

Peeta glances down before answering. “I had to,” he says vaguely.

 

“I’m finished,” Prim announces. “I’m just going to go wash up now,” she says, then hurries out of the room. Maybe she could sense that whatever is said over the next few minutes, it should only be discussed between the two of us.

 

“Gale came to me in the morning and was going on about your honor,” Peeta explains once the door is safely closed. “He said that people were going to talk, that they already were talking, and everyone was going to think the worst. He accused me of all kinds of nasty things, half of them were true.” Though his tone is serious, there’s a hint of a smirk on his face at this last bit. “Then he left. Finnick Odair showed up a little while later, informing me that Gale had challenged me to a duel. I had to do it, Katniss,” he says and tries to turn towards me, only to wince at the pain. “I couldn’t let your reputation be tarnished on my account. Even if we have done the things they accused me of. Especially since we have.”

 

I’m quiet as I turn this over in my mind. I can only imagine the things they accused Peeta of. And would it even matter to them to know I had been a willing participant? Maybe it would only make things worse.

 

Peeta continues. “And then, yesterday... when you told me your mother suspects you... that you could be with child... “ He falls silent.

 

“What if I am with child, Peeta?” I ask in a low voice. “What if you had been killed? What then?”

 

“I know,” he responds in an equally grave manner. “I couldn’t even think about it when you brought it up. That was why I was so distant.”

 

The conversation lapses as both of us become consumed by our thoughts. I’m furious with Peeta for what he’s done, but at the same time beyond relieved that he survived. And, as much as I don’t want to admit it, maybe I’m even a little flattered at the lengths he went to on my behalf. But I’m too angry with him to ever let him know.

 

Peeta is the first to break the silence. “I had a dream last night that you were screaming. You were scared. I kept trying to reach you, but I couldn’t.”

 

“I was screaming,” I admit quietly. “I had a nightmare.”

 

Peeta turns so he’s looking at the straight on, a concerned look on his face. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

I open my mouth to say no. But instead, the whole thing comes pouring out, tears prickling my eyes. Before I know it, I’m curled up at Peeta’s side, in tears, as we hold each other tight. “Don’t you ever do anything like that again,” I hiss, wiping my eyes.

 

“I won’t,” he promises, and kisses my forehead. Then he tilts my head towards him, and kisses me gently on the mouth. “I’ll stay right by your side like a good boy. You’ll never get rid of me.” When I laugh through the tears, Peeta kisses me again.

 

Things are quiet over the next few days as he recovers. Mama and Prim routinely check on his leg, dutifully changing the bandage every few hours. I stay by his side most of the time, since Mama has followed through on her promise to have Prim take on my more strenuous chores, and with Peeta out of commission, it’s much harder to hide the fact that I’m the one who’s been doing the hunting all along.

 

“Maybe it’s for the better,” Peeta says to me one afternoon. “You don’t want to hurt the baby.”

 

I have to smile at the way he speaks with such certainty. With the stress of the duel behind him, it’s become abundantly clear just how badly Peeta wants to be a father. And anyone can see how good he would be as one. It’s quells my fears somewhat. But the truth is, the thought of motherhood terrifies me more than just a little.

 

Those fears are subdued a few days later, when I find blood on a trip to the outhouse. It’s lighter than usual, but maybe it’s because of all the stress I’ve been under lately. I put a rag down, and debate whether or not I should tell Peeta.

 

Two days later, I’m reading to Peeta while Prim changes his bandage, when she looks up quickly. There’s a certain fear evident on her face. “What is it?” I ask.

 

“N- nothing,” she says, but that clearly isn’t true. She goes to the door and calls for our mother. When she arrives, all she does is motion her over to the bed, and lifts the covers back. Mama frowns immediately.

 

“Ask Thresh if he can please go for the doctor right away,” she orders Prim, who nods and obeys without another word. Peeta and I exchange a worried look.

 

“What is it?” I ask, but Mama just shakes her head. “Keep him quiet,” she tells me mysteriously, then disappears until the doctor shows up an hour later. Ordered out of the room so he can perform is examination, Prim and I sit nervously in the parlor. I try to focus on my knitting, but I can hardly concentrate.

 

The doctor finally comes out some time later, looking serious. “It’s gangrene, all right,” he says. “His leg needs to be amputated before it kills him.”

 

My knitting falls to the floor, forgotten.

 

“Are you sure?” Mama asks.

 

“Positive,” the doctor nods. “But I don’t have the proper equipment. He has to be taken to a proper hospital in Atlanta.”

 

My eyes widen. “He can’t go to Atlanta!” I say, standing up suddenly. Because I don’t want him taken that far away, and because, somehow, I know it will exacerbate his Soldier’s Heart. Which is the last thing he needs right now.

 

“I’m afraid it’s the only option, if you want him to live,” the doctor says.

 

“Then I’m going with him,” I say, looking around the room. “I have to. He’ll need me!”

 

“We’ll discuss it later, Katniss,” Mama says, clearly weary herself. “How soon do we need to send him out there?” she asks the doctor.

 

“As soon as possible,” he says. “The sooner the better. I’ll report to Boggs as soon as I get back--a transport to Atlanta should be provided by the Union Army. We will probably have one here first thing in the morning.”

 

Mama nods, and thanks the doctor for his time before escorting him to the door. Then, we hear her call for Haymitch, and both join us in the parlor again. The situation is explained to Haymitch, who looks grave. To my surprise, he addresses me first.

 

“You all right, sweetheart?” he asks.

 

“I have to go, Haymitch,” I say immediately. “Please. Tell Mama-”

 

“That’s enough, Katniss, please,” Mama says.

 

“I’ll watch the kids,” Haymitch says. “I know someone we can stay with in Atlanta, anyway.”

 

Both of us look at him in surprise--this kind of a move seems almost uncharacteristic of him. “T- thank you, Haymitch,” Mama says. And with further discussion, it’s agreed that not only will Haymitch and I go with Peeta to Atlanta, but so will Prim. She will act as his nurse for the journey there.

 

Peeta is the gravest I’ve ever seen him when I go in to explain what’s going on. But he just nods his head, and agrees that it’s for the best. The news that I’ll be joining him seems to make him feel a little better, but not much.

 

Exhausted, I head upstairs to pack a suitcase, before collapsing into bed next to Prim. Tomorrow we have a long journey ahead of us.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks for feeding-geese and allies-person for their help on this, as always.
> 
> I'm so sorry this chapter took so long, guys! Real life really kicked my ass in the time since I last posted. But, fingers crossed, I think things have calmed down and updates shouldn't take nearly as long again. Here's hoping, at least.
> 
> There is supposed to be an interlude piece to go between this chapter and chapter 10. But it's been giving me some trouble writing it, and I didn't want to put off updating much longer, so I decided to go ahead with posting 11 anyways. I will still post an interlude piece in a few days, though!
> 
> Also, if you like my writing and are interested, please check out my profile! I have several other works you might be interested -- a couple of oneshots that take place in the AHU universe, and several canon pieces. Soon I will be resuming work on two in-Panem WIPs. One is my take on their lives post-Mockingjay, which focuses on what it's like to recover and heal after going through loss and trauma. It's a very personal piece for me, because it's something I've experienced, too. The other is an AU that explores how Katniss and Peeta may have gotten together without the Games, and how a rebellion may have gone without them being the Star-crossed Lovers. Finally, in a couple of days I'll be posting the first chapter to a new historical AU set in the Jazz era, and based loosely on The Great Gatsby. 
> 
> Lastly, feel free to follow me on Tumblr! I can be found at shesasurvivor.tumblr.com. Please note that I have anonymous asks turned off, but don't be afraid to talk to me! I love hearing from people!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	12. Chapter 12

The wagon sways back and forth. It’s probably no worse than it usually is—and usually I find it hardly noticeable. But at every slight lurch I feel, it’s all I can do to keep from begging the driver to slow down, or hover over Peeta to ensure that he’s not bothered by it. The corpsman the Union Army sent with us has already shooed me away more than once, so I sit next to Prim and let her hold my hand.

 

For the last half hour, there’s only been an uncomfortable silence as he tended to Peeta’s wounds, grudgingly allowing Prim to assist. He didn’t want her to come along when she first showed up with us this morning, ready to climb in and go to Atlanta. He tried telling us that a girl wouldn’t be able to help a wounded soldier like Peeta. But at my insistence, offended on her behalf, and because Mama admitted she’d feel more comfortable if I had her along as an escort, the corpsman relented.

 

Now I keep my hand wrapped firmly in hers to prevent me from getting in the way again. Even if he’s not doing anything for the moment, I’m afraid if I go over now I’ll only wind up in his way shortly thereafter. It’s better if I stay here, safely anchored to Prim, watching the trees and occasional house as they go by.

 

“Katniss,” I hear Peeta call my name. I’m by his side in an instant.

 

“What’s wrong?” I ask, studying his expression for any possible sign of anguish. I’m relieved, but also a little thrown off when he actually smiles up at me.

 

“Nothing,” he says. “I just thought it was funny that you were still sitting over there even though he’s done.”

 

Now I frown at him, and move to get up and go back to my spot, but he grabs my wrist. “No, don’t go,” he says. So I settle down next to him. His hand slides down my wrist and slips into mine.

 

“We’re almost there,” I say.

 

“I know,” Peeta nods, his blue eyes looking straight up at nothing above him. He’s put up a great front, but under his brave exterior I think Peeta is pretty scared. And I’m not doing much better, to be honest. I think I only got about three hours of sleep last night, my mind was so tied up on taking this journey today. And what comes after it.

 

The wagon gives a lurch, and Peeta winces. “Why don’t you get some sleep?” I ask.

 

“No. I’m fine,” he says. “I don’t think I could sleep anyways. I’m too nervous.”

 

“Suit yourself,” I say.

 

We ride along in silence for some time. But Peeta’s pain only seems to get worse and worse. Eventually he does fall asleep, his head in my lap because he needed comfort and leverage. I let him stay there after he’s out, carefully keeping track of his expressions, counting every wince that crosses his face. I silently urge the horses to go faster, because I’m starting to feel desperate.

 

“We’re nearly there,” Haymitch says after a while, and nods at some scenery he must recognize as a telltale marker. Finally. If this journey lasts too much longer, I don’t think I’ll be able to stand it.

 

 

 

Atlanta is a big city. I’ve been here once or twice before, but not often. And not since the war. Not since it was burned down. The evidence of the destruction is still apparent all around the city. And if we thought the presence of Union forces was heavy in our community, it’s nothing compared to here. In Atlanta, they’re on every street corner. They’re in all the businesses, and in charge of all the major operations going on in town.

 

I’m not going to lie -- it makes me nervous. Which in turn makes me feel guilty, because if anyone should feel open to the Union Army at this point, it should be me. At least, you would think loving and agreeing to marry a Yankee soldier would do that. Butthe sight of them all makes me nervous. I try to remind myself that we’re here under their guard.

 

Atlanta seems to be rebounding. Even despite the charred remains of buildings still around, you can find reconstruction underway. Even under Yankee rule, we Southerners have found a way to come back to life. Something about it gives me hope.

 

The hospital is in a large building near the center of town. It’s a busy place, even now -- though, from what I heard of the gossip during the war, it’s nothing compared to how it was then. But soldiers and civilians alike can be found inside its walls.

 

Peeta is unloaded by several soldiers. He’s still conscious, but almost delirious from the pain. My prayers that he fall asleep and not have to endure it have not been answered. Then again, maybe that’s a good thing. He could not wake up if he were to fall asleep, and then where would we be? My stomach is upset even thinking about it.

 

Inside the hospital, we’re told a Dr. Aurelius will be over shortly. In the meantime, a nurse comes over to tend to Peeta. Her hair is up inside her nurse’s cap, but you can tell it’s brown from the way it sticks out from underneath. Her eyes immediately land on Peeta’s form when she comes near us. “Mr. Mellark?” she asks, searching the group for an answer.

 

“That’s right,” I nod.

 

The nurse looks me up and down. “Are you his wife?”

 

“Fiancée,” I respond. She gives me a skeptical look, one that makes me feel uneasy. I decide that I don’t like this nurse, whoever she is.

 

She doesn’t ask any further questions; just walks over to Peeta and immediately pulls the bandages back to get a look at it. Peeta stirs at her touch, and his eyes flutter open. They meet with hers, and widen in surprise.

 

“Johanna?” he mumbles in confusion.

 

The nurse fights back a grin. “Just stay still, kid. I’ll take care of you,” she tells him. Peeta obeys, but all the while studies her like he’s trying to figure something out. Or at least, he does as long as he can. After a minute, he slips back into unconsciousness.

 

When Johanna is done with the bandage, she turns back to face us.

 

“The doctor will be here shortly,” she says.

 

That’s a relief. But it turns out that’s not the primary concern weighing on my mind. “Do you two know each other?” I blurt out.

 

The nurse doesn’t even bother to fight back her grin this time. “We’ve met once or twice during the war,” she says.

 

“How?” I know I’m overstepping my boundaries, and asking her this question is prying into business that’s not my own -- I really should wait until Peeta has recovered some and ask him then. But I’m so unsettled by whoever she is, that I can’t stop the question from slipping out now.

 

“You’ll have to ask that fiancé of yours,” she says. Then she walks off before I can press any further. I turn to Haymitch, hoping that he might give me guidance. Haymitch seems almost amused.

 

“What does she mean?” I ask him, because it’s obvious he knows.

 

Haymitch smirks when he looks at me, but his tone is surprisingly soft. “You probably don’t want to know, Sweetheart,” he says. Something turns in the pit of my stomach; in the back of my mind, I feel as though something has been confirmed. But I don’t have any time to figure out what, because right then Dr. Aurelius walks up.

 

Dr. Aurelius doesn’t even bother with the formalities. He just walks over to Peeta and looks at the wound on his leg that Johanna left unbandaged and open for all to see. He nods at another man. “Take him to surgery,” he says. The man begins to move Peeta, but I stop him.

 

“Wait!” I say. I know we’re under a time constraint, but I didn’t realize he’d be going under the saw this soon. The bespectacled man stands back and looks at me curiously, but I ignore him as I rush over to Peeta’s side and take his hand in mine.

 

“Peeta?” I ask. He doesn’t answer. “Peeta,” I say again, even though I know he still won’t respond, but it’s all right. I lean over and brush a kiss onto his forehead, gently stroking a few wisps of his blond hair back and out of his eyes. At this feeling, he actually does open his eyes again. It’s clear he’s having a hard time focusing on me; it almost seems as though the sight of that nurse before, followed by the sight of me now has him doubly confused.

 

“Katniss?” he asks, his eyes crinkling together.

 

“It’s me,” I say, and smile down at him even as I feel my eyes begin to water. “They’re going to take you in for surgery now, Peeta,” I explain. Then I look up at Dr. Aurelius. “Will you have any way to keep the pain at bay?” I ask, frowning at him, willing him to say yes. Because if he tells me no, I’m fairly certain I’ll lose it right here, in front of everyone.

 

“Oh, yes,” he says, looking at me almost in surprise. “Anesthesia has been much easier to keep in supply since the war ended. He’ll be put under immediately.”

 

I don’t even bother to respond. I just turn back to Peeta, and tighten my hold on his hand. He stares deliriously up at me with those blue eyes of his. “I’m so sorry, Peeta,” I whisper to him, and try not to do something stupid like cry. Because this whole thing is my fault. He wouldn’t be in this situation now if it weren’t for me.

 

Peeta mumbles something incomprehensible and his eyes close again, but I do feel him give a gentle squeeze of my hand as he does. I don’t know if he’s unconscious again or if the pain of the whole thing is simply too much for him to bear at the moment. I don’t let go of his hand, and continue smoothing back his hair until the hospital workers move to lift him, telling me he must be taken, now, before things get any worse. They have to pry me away from him; it’s Prim who finally coaxes me off. Before I let go, though, I give him one last kiss, and tell him I love him. Then I watch as they carry him away, into a room across the way and close the door behind them with a loud clang.

 

Misery weighs down on me. I don’t know how I’m going to make it through the next few hours while I wait for the surgery to be finished, and to hear when he’s recovered enough to wake. I may not be as practiced in medicine as Mama or my sister, but I do know enough to know all the things that could possibly go wrong. And most of them lead to death.

 

“What do we do now?” I mutter to Prim and Haymitch, even though I’m not really listening for their answer. I see Prim helplessly look to Haymitch for guidance.

 

“There’s a hotel nearby,” Haymitch says. “We could have a meal while we wait.”

 

“That sounds good,” Prim agrees. “What do you think, Katniss?”

 

“Sure,” I nod, though it really doesn’t matter to me what we do. I’m not going to be anywhere but in the operating room with Peeta in my mind, anyways. Prim takes my hand and leads me out, and for a while I follow. As soon as we’re outside again, however, I stop in my tracks.

 

“I can’t,” I say. “I can’t go. I... I have to stay here.”

 

Prim gives Haymitch another helpless glance before she looks at me, concerned. “Katniss...” she begins.

 

“No! I need to be here, in case... “ I can’t finish my thought. “You go on without me.”

 

“Katniss,” Prim says again, the slightest hint of pleading creeping into her voice. “We can’t leave you here alone... “

 

“Let her stay,” Haymitch says, resting a hand on her arm.

 

“But-” Prim starts, but Haymitch silences her.

 

“She’ll be all right here,” he tells her. “People might think it’s improper, but nothing will happen. Too many people around. And besides, she’s waiting for her fiancé.”

 

Prim looks unconvinced, but nods anyway. “All right,” she says. “But... take care, Katniss.”

 

“All right,” I nod as well. Haymitch and Prim take off down the street, disappearing into the crowd completely.

 

I’m alone. I have no idea what I’ll do now--not that it matters. I don’t need a plan. I just need to find a place to huddle out of the way around here until Peeta comes out of surgery. Then I can sit by his side while he recovers, and wait for him to wake up. Because he will wake up. He has to wake up.

 

Where to go in the meantime, however, is another question. At first I just wander about the hospital aimlessly, trying to stay out of everyone’s way. Down long hallways, weaving in and out of the traffic from nurses, patients, doctors, and whoever else is found in a city hospital such as this one. I avoid eye contact with anyone, especially those in blue Union uniforms. If fear doesn’t make me want to avoid them, the reminder of Peeta does.

 

I don’t know how much time has passed by. It could be minutes; it could be hours. I’m staring out the window, not really taking in the bustle out on the streets in the rest of the world, when I hear footsteps walk up behind me. Turning, I see it’s the same dark-haired nurse from before. The one that Peeta called Johanna.

 

“Your _fiancé_ is out of surgery.” She emphasizes the “fiancé” in a way I don’t care for. Then, without another word, she turns again and walks away.

 

“Wait,” I call out after her, because even though the last thing I want is further conversation with her, I have so many questions I need answered. She halts and looks coolly back at me, waiting for me to continue.

 

“Um… where is he?”

 

Johanna rolls her eyes and turns back, setting off in her original direction and leaving me feeling dumbfounded and a little foolish. I’m just starting to ask myself what to do, when she glances back over her shoulder. “Are you coming or not?” she asks. Somewhat reluctantly, I start after her.

 

“How is he?” I ask when I catch up to her.

 

“Well, he just had his leg amputated.”

 

It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “I realize that,” I say back, hearing the harsh notes in my voice. “I mean, other than that. How is he?”

 

“Just great,” Johanna says sarcastically.

 

I frown at her. “Is he at least awake?” Or is that too much to tell me as well, whatever her problem with me is?

 

“He was awake earlier. He might be now. Or he might have fallen asleep.”

 

I nod, but say nothing more since it’s obvious I won’t get any clear answers from her. We walk in silence for some time, and I realize I don’t even recognize where we are. My mind must have been in a fog the whole time I was waiting.

 

At last, the room widens into an ocean of cots, half of them full of soldiers. I have the feeling that this is nothing, and that during the war these beds must have been filled completely. The rumors going around certainly supported that theory.

 

Peeta is at the far end of the room. I follow Johanna, carefully picking my way through the maze of cots, patients and other obstacles, all while trying to keep up with her quick pace. Since she has more experience, she makes it seem so effortless. But getting through to the other side takes more maneuvering than it seems. When we do reach the other side, Peeta is asleep. Or at least, he has his eyes closed. Forgetting Johanna, and myself, I rush forward immediately.

 

There’s a blanket covering him, so I can’t see the amputation myself; just the ghostly empty flat spot where his leg should be. It’s probably for the better that I can’t see it. Memories of me running out the back door as Mama and, later, Prim, tended to wounded people bubble up without invitation. Even now that I think about it, my stomach threatens to upheave its contents. Instead, I force my eyes up to Peeta’s face. I search for his hand and take it in one of mine, while the other gently strokes the hair out of his eyes.

 

His eyes flutter open at my touch, the soft blue of them clouded with a haze of anguish.  But he still manages a smile at the sight of me. “Katniss,” he mouths.

 

“Hello,” I say, returning his smile and just managing to fight off tears. “The surgery is over.”

 

“So it is,” he says, his voice hoarse. Then he screws his eyes shut as a fresh new wave of pain washes over him, and he squeezes my hand tightly. “Peeta?” I ask, feeling frantic. I look around, but we seem to be alone. The nearest patient is several cots away. Johanna has disappeared completely.

 

“I’m all right,” he says faintly. But it’s clear how much pain he’s in. I don’t want to upset him further, though, so I try to comfort him the best I can. “Are you sure?” I ask, feeling helpless. He nods, but doesn’t say anything. Glancing around, I find a chair and pull it over. Taking his hand in mine again, I settle in for the remainder of the day. Peeta goes in and out of consciousness, only able to stay awake for so long before the pain becomes too much to handle and he goes back to sleep. The nurse Johanna comes by to check on him, then leaves again without further comment.

 

“Who is she?” It slips out of my mouth without permission, because somehow I just know this isn’t an appropriate question for now. That whatever explanation Peeta has for her identity would be better held off until he’s had more time to recover.

 

“My friend in the war,” he mumbles, slipping away into sleep again.

 

“Your friend?” I ask. That seems like an odd explanation somehow… Why would she have been his friend only during the war?

 

“Yes. Helped me. Taught me.” It’s hard for him to formulate sentences, but my curiosity is piqued and I need to know. So I ask anyways.

 

“Taught you what?”

 

Peeta manages to get one final word out. “‘Ooker.”

 

‘Ooker? What on Earth could that mean? My mind turns it over in my mind until finally something clicks. Not ‘ooker, but… oh. Oh.

 

Hooker.

 

The realization makes me feel as though I’ve been struck in the stomach. But when you think about it… his friend during the war, who taught him… it makes sense. Johanna is the one who taught him all those moves he’s used with me.

 

I look over at him now, snoring peacefully, and drop his hand. Maybe it’s unfair, but the whole thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth. And knowing Johanna and I have both been with Peeta in the same way makes me more than a little uncomfortable. I look around my area now, but thankfully she’s nowhere in sight.

 

Now I’m at a loss over what to do. I don’t really want to stay here right now. But a part of me still feels awful leaving Peeta here alone. Then again, he is asleep. He wouldn’t notice. And besides, he has Johanna here to look after him. Again.

 

Thankfully, my question is answered for me when Prim and Haymitch show up. Prim immediately gives me a hug, then asks how Peeta is doing, peering down at him as if she were the one who had performed the surgery herself. Which wouldn’t be such a radical idea, had Prim been born a boy. She’d be a natural as a doctor.

 

She chatters lightheartedly for a little bit, telling me everything they did while Peeta was under saw. Evidently, Haymitch has friends here in town, and he and Prim called on them. What’s more, in the name of hospitality, they have opened up their home for us to stay in while we’re here in Atlanta. We won’t be staying in the hotel after all. Which is a relief in a way, because I have no idea how we were going to afford to pay for the rooms, what with the heavy taxes on the land and all.

 

All the while Prim chats, Haymitch watches me silently. He can tell that something is up, but doesn’t ask what it is. But when Johanna comes by again, and he sees the way I’m glaring at her, things seem to fall into place for him.

 

“Shall we go get supper?” he asks during a lull in the conversation after Johanna leaves.

 

Both Prim and I hesitate; Prim looks back to me for guidance. Not that I have any. “I… should we leave him alone?” I ask cautiously.

 

“You’re gonna have to,” he answers. “Can’t stay here all night. The hospital won’t let you.”

 

That’s true, and something I hadn’t taken into consideration before. No, I suppose I wouldn’t be allowed to stay here overnight. The hospital isn’t as over-ridden with wounded patients as it was during the war, but they still need the room. And besides, it wouldn’t be proper for me to be alone, and I know Haymitch isn’t interested in staying here with me overnight. So I nod, grateful to have a reason to leave. “All right, then.”

 

Before we leave, though, I do turn back to Peeta and tell him we’re leaving. I even brush my lips against his forehead, though it isn’t much of a kiss. “Should we let someone know?” I ask, turning back to Haymitch.

 

“Might want to let that nurse of his know,” he says. Ignoring the look of amusement in his eyes, I nod and go to find her. When I do, she’s on the other side of the hospital, tending to another soldier.

 

“Something else I can do for you?” she asks sarcastically. I bite back all the things I want to say to her. “We’re leaving for the night,” I say instead. “Would you mind letting Mr. Mellark know when he wakes?”

 

“Of course,” she offers a sweet smile that I don’t buy for a minute. “Have a good night, Miss Everdeen.”

 

“Thank you,” I say stiffly back. “You too.” Then I hurry back to where Haymitch and Prim are waiting. Haymitch walks us back to his friends’ house, a considerable journey from the hospital on foot. But since we have no other way to get there, it’ll have to do.

 

Stepping out onto the busy streets of Atlanta is like entering another world entirely. Where the hospital is quiet and full of those recovering, the city around it is abuzz with a different kind of mending. Much of it is still in ruins from when Sherman’s troops set it on fire. It’s a haunting site. But scattered all around are the skeletons of rebirth. Dark- and light-skinned men alike assist with the construction, which sort of surprises me, to see them working side by side, but these days surviving requires the previously unthinkable.

 

The other big change, of course, is the presence of Yankees. Blue coats are everywhere. I know I should be used to it by now, but what’s become just another piece of clothing when Peeta wears it still takes on an ominous feel when I see them like this. I tell myself not to be afraid, because after all,  I will soon take one for a husband. I put on the most neutral face I can manage. And it works, for the most part. Maybe it’s because we’re accompanied by a man, or maybe, I think, it’s because they’re not such monsters after all that they leave us alone, sans the occasional smile and polite nod of the head. But every time I begin to ease up, I catch sight of a particularly charred building, or a starving family badly in need of food, and the contents of my stomach threaten to empty all over again. One soldier that smiles at me even sings a little song that takes me aback.

 

_Hurrah! Hurrah! we bring the jubilee!_

_Hurrah! Hurrah! the flag that makes you free!_

_So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea_

_While we were marching through Georgia._

 

I can only stare in disgust, while the soldier chuckles in amusement over my expression. Then Prim comes to my rescue. “Katniss!” she calls for me over her shoulder, having noticed how I’ve fallen behind. I give the Yankee another glare for good measure, then hurry to catch up.

  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Hooray! I'm really sorry about how long this chapter took to complete - my life got pretty crazy (and stressful, unfortunately) over the summer. Among other things, I moved out of state, and that's always a time-filler. However, I was also at Comic Con in July, and made it into the Catching Fire panel! It was absolutely amazing to be there in person. Can't wait for the movie to come out! Who's buying their tickets tomorrow/today?
> 
> The song the soldier sings is an old melody written shortly after Sherman’s March to the Sea proved a success. The song is Marching Through Georgia by Henry Clay Work. You can listen to the full thing here: http://youtu.be/lTjxqZWWmgc
> 
> Big thanks to bigbigbigday006, allies-person and Chelzie for their help on this chapter!


	13. Chapter 13

Bright and early the next morning, I’m dressed and on my way to the hospital. I’ll admit I thoughttwice about even going at all. I’m still upset over what I learned yesterday. But I know I couldn’t abandon Peeta in good conscience now. Not when he just lost his leg because of me. So before the streets of Atlanta have even begun to awaken for the day’s business, I set out on foot.

 

At least I’ve had breakfast. The wife of the kindly couple who took us in last night was up as early as me, and refused to let me leave without eating. I like them both. Cinna and Portia are their names, and they’re tailors here in town. Or at least, they’re attempting to be tailors in the rebirth of this economy. It’s hard to imagine how Haymitch knows them, because they’re so unlike anyone I’d ever imagine him associating with. But apparently they knew each other from some business during the war.

 

Of course, the people out as early as me are mostly Union soldiers. I try not to let it show how much they intimidate me, and find myself wishing Peeta were here. At least if they spoke to me, they’d know I was protected by one of their own. Even Haymitch would offer some sort of sanctuary. As it is, though, they actually leave me alone on my journey besides a curious look or the occasional friendly greeting.

 

The hospital is quiet enough when I finally reach it. Only the nurses are moving about, taking care of the sick and wounded confined inside the hospital's walls, who fully rely on them for care. It's reassuring to see them, I suppose. But of course I can't help wonder if Johanna is here as well. She was here late enough last night that being here this early seems unlikely. But I don't know how late or early hospital nurses work. Goodness knows we kept everyone working from dawn ‘til dusk when the plantation was still in working condition. And hospital work is certainly more urgent than that.

 

It seems bigger here in the morning, with fewer people around filling the halls. That and most of the patients are probably still sleeping. This is about the time most people begin to wake for the day, but I imagine if you're injured like these men are, you wouldn't be in a hurry to get out of bed. No one bothers me as I pick my way through the cots to get to Peeta's. He's still asleep, but it quickly becomes obvious it's been a restless night for him. He moves about in his sleep, and his faces grimacing more than once in the few minutes I watch him. I feel helpless, not having anything to do for him, to relieve him of the nightmares I know must be plaguing him along with the pain. I'm also not sure whether I should wake him up. I know he does need to rest for the best recovery, but a part of me wonders if he would be better off awake. I'm just not sure if I'm ready to face him just yet...

 

After some time watching him, a male nurse offers me a chair, which I gratefully accept. Despite falling asleep almost instantly last night, I'm exhausted for some reason. In the way I'd become when I'd get sick as a child, and Mama would make me rest. The kind that goes straight to your bones, and nothing seems to shake it off no matter how much you sleep. Actually, my stomach is still upset, too. Maybe I am getting sick, in which case I probably shouldn't be around here. Or maybe it's just the worry eating away at me.

 

Watching Peeta sleep quickly becomes boring, and since I didn't think to bring anything with me to occupy my time, I decide to pass it by watching the rest of the room instead. I'm not the only visitor here this early, it seems. Not far off, a young woman weeps over a boy who can't be much older than ten. I'm not sure what all she says, but I do catch her uttering "Eddy" more than once. It must be the boy's name. A nurse is trying to calm her. I force myself to look away, because somehow I know this isn't a scene I want to have burned in my mind forever.

 

Besides, Peeta is moving more and more, which tells me he's about to awaken. I brace myself, trying to put on the most pleasant expression I can manage. His blue eyes flutter open a moment later, but they're clouded with pain. At first he only stares in front of him, as though he isn't quite sure where he is and is trying to piece things together. I remain quiet, just in case. Then he must figure it out, because I see recognition dawn in his eyes. He blinks a few times and looks around, and then he spots me.

 

"You're here," he says plainly. No hint of a smile seems to grace his features, no light in his eyes as he takes me in. Just acknowledgement of the facts.

 

"Yes," I say. Then, feeling like more should be said, I add, "I came here as soon as I woke up this morning."

 

He nods, considering this. "What time is it?" he asks.

 

"I'm not sure," I say. "It's still very early."

 

"You weren't here last night." He says it simply enough, but something cold turns over in my stomach anyways. I should have known he would have noticed my absence.

 

"Haymitch made me leave," I say, feeling a bit pathetic even though it's true.

 

Peeta just nods, and is quiet for a minute. "I didn't know where you were," he tells me.

 

"Haymitch knows some people here in Atlanta. They let us stay with them for the night," I explain. Then something clicks in my mind. "I told that nurse last night to let you know. Didn't she tell you?"

 

"Johanna? No," he shakes his head like this is news to him. "That's unlike her," he adds. Then I see the look on his face as he catches himself, realizing his omission. He checks my face, and can tell that I know the truth about their history together. His frustration with me seems to disappear immediately. "I guess you want to hear the story of how I know her now, huh?" he asks apologetically.

 

"Not really," I bite back. "I think I can make a decent guess."

 

"It was during the war, Katniss," he says. "It was before I knew you. I've told you this."

 

"I know," I say a little too defensively. He's right, we have talked about this. And more than once at that. But there's a difference between knowing something in theory, and being forced to face the reality of it. And maybe a part of me wanted to believe that he had never really been with anyone but me. That as long as they remained nameless and faceless, they somehow became imaginary. But now I know that it was true.

 

"But you're still upset," he says, fixing his eyes up on the ceiling. I don't say anything, mostly because I can't think of anything to say. Then Peeta cringes violently as a fresh wave of pain washes over him. It's bad enough that it causes him to cry out, which of course brings the nurse over to check on him. Of course, it's Johanna.

 

Isn’t it just my luck? Doesn't she ever go to sleep?

 

She gives me a cool glance before tending to Peeta. At the sight of her touching him, I'm tempted to order her to back off, and insist I can take care of him myself. Then I realize I'm nowhere near as competent at this stuff as she is. So I rather reluctantly let her continue, thinking all the while that I should have brought Prim with me this morning after all.

 

Johanna changes Peeta's bandages. This is the first time I've really seen what's left of his leg from the surgery, and I feel a bit ashamed for looking away. But I have never stomached this kind of thing as well as my sister and mother. I always used to run away and hide in the woods whenever they tended to the sick. Johanna speaks soothing words to Peeta as she works, assuring him that he's safe. It surprises me to hear them, I guess because I assumed she was only capable of sharp jeering. I suppose she reserves that only for me. And maybe the other wives of men she's had her way with. She makes quick work, though, which is one good thing to say about her. I won't lie about being grateful when she leaves without another word. It's like she can sense the tension between Peeta and me over her. She probably does, I realize.

 

Neither of us says anything for a long time after she leaves. At first I think Peeta is lost in thought -- and maybe he is, at least for a little while. But then I see that he's still fighting off the pain. I watch him wince for a little while, wondering if anything I can do would help him now, or if he just wants me to leave him alone. Slowly, as I would with a wounded animal, I reach out and gently push the hair out of his eyes, just like I did yesterday. He tenses a little under my touch, then lets out a long breath.

 

"I missed you last night," he whispers in a shaky voice. Tears well up in his haunted eyes, and I know this isn't a romantic declaration, but the confession of a frightened, lonely young man.

 

"I'm here now," I promise him in a hushed tone. "Go back to sleep if you need to." Peeta nods, and for a few minutes just lies there while I continue smoothing back his hair. Eventually he does drift off to sleep. I don't leave his side, instead opting to wait in the chair until he wakes up.

 

The room seems to slowly come to life around us as I wait. More visitors arrive, checking on their loved ones. Sometimes the faces are happy, encouraged by the progress their husband, son, friend or brother has made. Other times they try to hide behind their smiles so as not to scare the diseased with the truth. And some of them don't even bother letting the truth show on their faces. It's not a pleasant show to watch, but it is eye-opening. If it's like this now, then I can only imagine how it was during the war, when these beds were always full of the dying. And during that time, most of them probably didn't have the luxury of having their loved ones gathered at their bedside for some semblance of peace.

 

Close to what must be around noon, I hear the young woman from this morning start to wail. One nurse attempts to comfort her, while two others are leaned over the boy named Eddy. They speak in hushed voices with each other, so as not to upset the girl any further. Haunted by the whole spectacle, I can't take it any longer. Before I'm even aware of what I'm doing, I'm on my feet and making my way out of the room as quickly as possible. I'm not even sure where I'm going at first, because all that matters is that I move. I apologize to Peeta in my mind, reassuring myself that at least I'm not leaving the hospital. I'll be back by his side as soon as I've calmed down. I duck in and out of doors until at last I find myself in the miniature chapel housed in a side wing of the hospital.  

 

The room is small, with a few rows of pews separated down the middle by an aisle. A cross hangs at the front, providing the backdrop of an altar. The room is dim, with no windows and lit only by candles. If I didn’t already know, I might have no clue if it were morning or evening.

 

Because it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, I don’t see her until it’s too late. Frowning over her shoulder at me from the front row is the nurse, Johanna. She doesn’t even bother to mask her annoyance at seeing me. Feeling awkward, I mutter a pathetic apology and turn to leave.

 

“Sure,” she shoots back. “And please keep any refined lady judgments about a whore in church to yourself.” I frown, but keep moving. “If you really are a lady, that is.”

 

That does the trick. I stop in my tracks, and turn to glare at her. Johanna quirks an eyebrow up at me in response. “Did I hit a nerve?”

 

“I… I don’t think I appreciate what you’re implying,” I say back.

 

Johanna barks out a laugh. “What do you think I’m implying?” she asks. “That I know just how well you and Mellark know each other?” She laughs at the way I’m glaring at her. “Are you going to deny it? Don’t bother. It’s obvious I’m right.”

 

Countless scathing retorts cross my mind, as does the urge to leap across those pews separating us and rip her throat out. In the end, though, all I do is sink helplessly into the seat closest to me. Because she’s right. I’m really no better than she is. And besides, now she has me worried. How can she tell? Is it obvious just from watching us? Watching me? Is there some change I wasn’t aware of somehow? Is the way I walk different? On and on my mind goes. Is this what made Mama think I could be with child? And if she can tell… can Prim tell? The thought of my younger sister knowing the truth about what I’ve done makes me sick.

 

Johanna, who has been watching me, seems confused now. She wrinkles her brow, perplexed. “You’re not going to deny it?” she asks.

 

“Is there even a point in doing that?” I sigh, and bury my face in my hands both out of embarrassment and just being exhausted from the whole thing.

 

Johanna rolls eyes her eyes. “I don’t think you’re a wanton woman, dummy. You’re too pure for that.”

 

I snap my eyes to her, my mouth hanging open. “I am not!” I protest. I’m not really sure why I’m so defensive, though. Shouldn’t I be relieved that someone knows the truth, and still doesn’t see me as being loose? I suppose the real issue is that I don’t see how she could possibly be right.

 

“Sure you are,” she says. “Have you been with anyone else?”

 

“No…”

 

“See? Still as good as any married woman.”

 

All I can do is sit there and let this settle in. “I’m not using him,” I murmur for some reason even I can’t figure out.

 

“Oh, I believe that,” she says. “It’s clear, whatever else you two are doing, that you have some sappy little romance going on. The kid is head over heels for you. God only knows why.”

 

I ignore the comment, curious about the rest of what she’s said. “How do you know?” I can’t help asking.

 

She lets out another one of those laughs. “He wouldn’t stop babbling about you last night. Kept wanting to know where you were. I didn’t know what to tell him.” She pauses; I can’t help thinking it’s to make me feel guilty for leaving him. It works. “He told me a little about you, too,” she continues. “Can’t say I agree with him on your looks. I’ll have to take his word for it on you being almost as good as me in bed.”

 

I can feel my cheeks burn to a deep crimson. It’s partly because I’m embarrassed, but also because now I’m upset with Peeta. So that’s how Johanna knew about it. It wasn’t that I gave off any sort of clue at all--Peeta simply let it slip without a second thought.

 

Johanna is grinning at me. “What’s he like these days, anyways?” she asks. “Has his performance improved? I had to teach him everything, you know. Has he tried that trick with the tongue up your cunt yet?” My eyes grow wide in horror; my cheeks burn even hotter, if possible. Johanna bursts out laughing at the sight of me.

 

“I don’t think that’s appropriate to talk about in a church,” I say nervously.

 

“Oh relax, Brainless,” she says. “I don’t want your fiancé, anyway. He’s all wrong for me.”

 

A silence falls over us. I study Johanna, slowly piecing something together in my mind. Something about the way she said that, and the look on her face now… “Johanna,” I begin slowly, “don’t take this the wrong way, but… why are you a nurse now?”

 

Johanna gives me a look that I can’t read. I think I’ve upset her for a moment, but instead she just gives me a tired smile. “Instead of a hooker, you mean?” I nod. I expect another sarcastic half-explanation or a jab about how nosey I’m being. Instead Johanna surprises me when she lets out an almost wistful sigh and turns her eyes away from mine.

 

“Because… I met someone,” she says, and I can tell from the way she swallows that even admitting it is hard for her. I hold my silence, willing her to go on. “He is a good man. I didn’t even meet him through my services. He was doing odd jobs for the general store. We moved to Atlanta to get a fresh start, and I became a nurse. Only now they have all these new laws, and we don’t know to work through them. He’s probably going to have to go back to working on someone else’s land.”

 

My head is spinning as I try to piece this together. Why would the laws make it hard for them? Why would he have to go back to working someone’s land? And then it occurs to me. “He’s a freedman?”

 

Johanna nods. “Is that a problem for you, Mrs. Yankee Soldier?”

 

“No,” I shake my head quickly, but in truth it does take me aback a little. You hear about these kinds of things happening from gossip during the sewing circles or neighborhood parties, but they aren’t a common occurrence.

 

“Good,” she says. “Not that you’re one to judge.”

 

Maybe it’s just been one jab too many aimed in my direction, but for some reason this comment is too much for me. “Stop it!” I yell at her, leaping to my feet so I can fix her with a proper glare. “I love Peeta! Stop insulting that!”

 

“Who’s insulting who?” She asks. “I love a freedman. Let’s both keep our little judgments to ourselves.” Johanna fixes me with a sharp stare, and I’m only too happy to return it. Several long moments pass with tension thick in the air. Then Johanna breaks it with a shrug and a bit of a laugh.

 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” she says. “You’re about as pure as they get. I have to get back to work.” She pulls a coat to her and stands up, walking briskly up the aisle, past me. But just as she’s about to exit, she stops in her tracks and turns back to me.

 

“Look…” she says. “If you love him, you love him. It doesn’t matter who he is or what you’ve done.” She gives me a once over, then rolls her eyes and pushes out the door, leaving me confused in her wake.

 

For some time, I sit in the silent chapel and try to make sense of Johanna’s words. But it seems pointless to sit here now, and besides, I’m not sure how long I’ve been gone. Peeta had already been asleep for some time when I took off. I decide to make my way back to him.

 

When I reach his cot, I find that Haymitch and Prim have arrived in my absence. Peeta is also awake; it seems they were here before he awoke and have kept him company. I’m glad, but I also feel guilty about not being here myself. He looks at me with doleful eyes as I approach. I offer him a small smile before exchanging pleasantries with everyone.

 

“Glad you made it, sweetheart,” Haymitch says. I shoot him a dirty look. He shoots me a look right back that makes me back off. I move to Peeta and crouch down next to him, taking his hands in mine. Haymitch continues. “They say he should be out of here today. Nothing else they can do for him here. He’ll be on crutches for some time while the stump hardens. Then they can fit him with a fake leg.”

 

“Fake leg?” I ask.

 

“That’s right,” he says. “Seems they’ve made a real business of it since the war broke out.”

 

It isn’t long before Peeta is fixed up with a pair of wooden crutches. We all help him practice on them a bit before we go. Sitting up isn’t hard; he can do that on his own. It’s when he pulls the blanket off that I get a better look than I’ve had so far. His thigh goes to his knee. After that, his pant leg is empty. I can’t help looking away, feeling bile rise in my throat. His leg is really gone. And it’s my fault that it happened.

 

With Haymitch’s help, Peeta is able to stand. He’s shaky on one leg, not used to his balance being so thrown off. But the crutches help. He practices moving around on them a little bit, and it doesn’t take long for him to get the hang of it. So after all final details are attended to, we help him out of the hospital, me by his side the entire way.

 

Cinna and Portia were kind enough to lend us a wagon and some horses to use for the journey. Getting Peeta into it is something of a challenge, but with the help of a few nearby soldiers, we get him in. I climb in beside him, while Prim joins Haymitch in the front. I tend to him the whole way back, distracting myself from the sights of the city under Union occupation.

 

Once back, Cinna and Portia make a big fuss about welcoming Peeta, going out of their way to accommodate him. They get him settled in the parlor while Prim and I help Portia with supper. I check on him every few minutes. Peeta seems listless, though. Even Cinna, who I think could win anybody over, can’t get more than a faint smile out of him.

 

When supper is ready at last, we help him to the table and settle him into a chair next to mine. He remains quiet through the meal. Talk quickly turns to other things, mostly about the state things have been in since the war’s end. Cinna and Portia fill us in on what’s been happening in the rest of the South. Struggles to put food on the table abound, but I’m used to that. What does get my attention is the mention of all the new taxes being raised on the land. How we’ll ever pay those off, I’ll never know. That is, until Cinna mentions a new system that other plantations have utilized with various success. Something called sharecropping.

 

“They’re subsidizing the land,” he says. “Freedmen need work, but aren’t having luck finding any due to the black codes. Planters need people to work their land.”

 

“And it works?” I ask.

 

He shrugs. “It seems to so far. But the long-term effects remain to be seen.”

 

After supper has finished, Prim and I help clean the dishes. Portia is grateful for the help, and quickly falls into conversation with Prim on the subject of being a seamstress. By the time we’re done with cleaning, Portia has promised to show Prim some of her more advanced techniques. Wiping our hands dry, Prim turns to me. “Will you come watch too, Katniss?”

 

I glance out the door to where Peeta sits, alone and waiting. “No,” I tell her. “You go on ahead.”

 

She gives me a sympathetic look and a nod. “I’ll talk to you later, then,” she tells me, and follows Portia out of the room. I procrastinate a little, pretending to wipe a dish dry while I wait for them to clear out. Then I take a deep breath, and make my way out to the dining room. Peeta’s blue eyes are on me immediately. Questioning. Vulnerable.

 

“Why are you still sitting here?” I ask him.

 

He just gives me somewhat of a shrug. “I like it here, I guess.”

 

I know that can’t be true. He’s just embarrassed to ask for help. And maybe it’s more than that, I realize. Maybe he wanted to see what I would do.

 

“Do you want to go out and get air?” Another shrug. “You have to practice moving, Peeta,” I tell him. “Come to the porch. I’ll help you.”

 

For a brief moment, he just wordlessly stares off into space. Then, he finally gives a nod. “All right,” he murmurs, and scuttles forward in his seat, grabbing his crutches and trying to find the right balance to lift himself up with. When he has difficulty, I offer my hand. He hesitates at first, then takes it. Together, we help him to his feet. Then he balances precariously as he adjusts to having only one leg. All the weight goes onto it while he edges the crutches forward. Then he hops forward. He repeats this. Shuffle, hop, all the way across the room; through the house and to the door leading outside. I stay by his side the whole way, ready for anything. I can’t do much to help him if he falls and is seriously hurt. But I can certainly go fetch help.

 

Once outside, I help him settle into the little bench Cinna and Portia keep on their front porch. When I’m certain he’s comfortable, I sit down beside him. Some time goes by in absolute silence. I’m actually the first one to break it.

 

“The stars sure are pretty tonight,” I say nervously. I hear him take a deep breath, but he doesn’t answer. I look over at him, and see he has a pensive look on his face. Finally, he speaks.

 

“Just get it over with, Katniss,” he says in a tired voice. “I know you’re upset over Johanna.”

 

I’m startled into silence. That is the reason I wanted to talk to him alone, and maybe I figured he knew on some level. But I didn’t expect him to just come out and say it. “I was,” I admit quietly, feeling myself grow a little warm.

 

“‘Was?’” he repeats. “What do you mean by that?”

 

I’m quiet as I think about it, not sure how much, if any, of the conversation with Johanna I should reveal to him right now. “I talked to her while you were asleep,” I say at last. “Johanna, I mean.”

 

“Wonderful,” he says flatly. “Katniss, I don’t know what she told you, and I know you don’t believe me when I tell you this, but that’s over now.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I- You do?” Now Peeta looks thoroughly confused, as if he couldn’t possibly have understood what I said.

 

“Yes,” I admit. The next words come with more difficulty; Peeta just watches me closely, waiting in eager anticipation for whatever I’m about to say. “She told me…” I begin, closing my eyes. “She told me you only talked about me with her that first night.”

 

Finally he smiles. “That’s probably true,” he admits. “I told you I missed you.”

 

“You did,” I agree, smiling a little myself. Because this smile on his face now is the first I’ve seen from him in ages. Since before the amputation, that only happened because he was trying to defend me. My hand moves automatically to the spot on his thigh just above the stump, resting on it carefully. I blink back tears, knowing it never would have happened if it weren’t for me. “I haven’t been fair, Peeta,” I tell him, my voice strained from the lump in my throat. The next part comes out in just barely above a whisper. “I know you love me.”

 

Peeta studies me. “Good,” he says.

 

“Good?” I was expecting a little more than that.

 

Peeta’s eyes dart around, like he’s checking to see if anyone else is around to hear or see us. Then he places his hand on top of mine where it still sits on his leg. “Good, because it’s true. I do love you,” he tells me. “I would have thought it was obvious.”

 

“It was,” I say, averting my eyes because now I feel ashamed. Peeta’s free hand finds my chin, gently guiding it back so I can look him in the eyes. My heart is pounding heavily in my chest as he leans in, making me melt into his warmth as his lips find mine. I hope no one is around, because I bring an arm up and wrap it around his neck. When was the last time we kissed like this? In the chaos and panic from these last few days, I can barely remember. The only thing I can register now is just how much I’ve missed Peeta. How relieved I am to still have him, even missing one leg.

 

When he pulls away, I just lean further into him. This makes Peeta chuckle. He brings a hand up, and strokes a few strands of hair out of my eyes. “I love you,” he says. “Katniss, you’re the first sense of family I’ve had since before the war started. You’re the first person I’ve ever wanted to marry. The only person.”

 

I have to smile at this. I lean in to kiss him again, but he puts a hand up to stop me, an expectant, curious, and vaguely amused look on his face. "Wait a minute, Miss Everdeen. Don't you want to tell me how I'm the only person you've ever wanted to marry? How you waited your whole life to meet someone like me, and now that I'm here you can't wait to spend the rest of your life with the best thing that ever happened to you?"

 

I laugh. Peeta just gives me an innocent look. "I don't see what's so funny," he says, but I can just tell he's biting back a laugh himself. "I'm waiting," he tells me.

 

"Oh, all right," I say with a loud sigh, pretending to be very annoyed with the whole thing. "I suppose you're the only one I've ever wanted to marry, too."

 

"Suppose?" he gives a mock look of offense.

 

"Fine," I say. "You are the only person I've ever wanted to marry. Are you happy now?"

 

"Very," he tells me as he leans in for another kiss. "Are you?"

 

"Yes," I say. And as I do, I'm happy to realize I mean it. All of it. As long and difficult as this courtship has been, I don't regret it. And the more time that passes, the easier it becomes to admit that I like Peeta's touches and caresses, the way he kisses me. The way his kisses make me grow warm at the memory of the more intimate things we've done together. And I evidently I'm not the only one.

 

"I'd take you to bed right now, if I could," he mutters against my mouth.

 

"But your leg," I say, drawing back to look at him in surprise.

 

Peeta just laughs. "And that's all you're worried about," he says with a note of amusement. "Not the fact that we're still not married. Not that we'd be more likely to be caught in this house than your own." He shakes his head. "You're not helping this any, you know."

 

I withdraw from his embrace, folding my hands neatly in my lap. This makes him burst out laughing. "What?" I say in a superior voice. "I can be chaste, you know. Johanna thinks I’m pure. And so do the girls back home.”

 

“Well, you are pure,” Peeta says.

 

I turn and stare at him, feeling angry and confounded at once. “I am not pure!” I protest.

 

He shakes his head. “It’s not a bad thing, Katniss.”

 

“But how can you even say that, considering how many times we’ve... that we’ve... you know.”

 

Peeta’s grinning at my inability to say it. “Our relations?” he asks, trying to take on a more serious tone. I nod, not greeting his eyes. He settles back against the chair rest, looking thoughtful. “How can I explain this in a way that makes sense?” he wonders out loud. “Well, what do you get in exchange for our little trysts?”

 

I snap my head at him, glaring with all the heat I can manage. “Nothing!” I practically shout. That Peeta is implying what I think he is, that I’ve been with him for any sort of ulterior motive, is nothing short of insulting.

 

“Exactly,” he says. “Nothing but a whole lot of trouble if we’re found out. It’s not like it is for somebody like Johanna Mason, who would have relations with anybody for the right price. You do it to show me that you love me.”

 

I stare at him.

 

“Am I wrong?” He asks.

 

“No,” I admit, letting out a sigh and leaning back into him. He wraps an arm around me. Strokes my hair gently. I allow my head to rest on his shoulder.

 

“So what’s wrong?” He asks quietly after a while. “If it’s not the Johanna thing, what is bothering you?”

 

“Nothing.” It doesn’t seem right to burden him with more troubling news so soon after losing his leg.

 

“That’s not true,” he says. “Was it the taxes Cinna was talking about?”

 

I bite my lip and nod. “We barely get by as it is,” I say. “We’ve only been able to do that because of how hard I work to put food on the table. But now, with your leg, and… and if… “ I can’t get my words out. But Peeta understands what I mean when I rest one hand on my stomach.

 

“Katniss,” he begins, “if you think for one minute that I would let you, or your family, or our family starve…”

 

“But you won’t be able to work for a while,” I say. Because of this amputation, Peeta will be out of commission for quite some time.

 

“I can buy supplies,” he says. “I still get a paycheck from the army, you know.”

 

“I couldn’t,” I tell him. “It wouldn’t be right.”

 

“Why not?” Peeta gives me a baffled look. “The money is as good as yours anyhow. It will be yours once we’re married.”

 

It's somehow something I hadn’t considered until now. Even so, the thought of willingly accepting his Union money… for some reason I can’t put my finger on, it feels wrong. And besides, it still might not be enough to pay the taxes. I voice as much to Peeta.

 

“That’s true,” he admits.

 

“Maybe we should just sell to that Plutarch fellow after all,” I say with a sigh.

 

Peeta looks at me. “Would you really be all right with that?”

 

“No,” I admit. “But what other choice would we have? Unless…” I stop, because the thought of saying it out loud seems outlandish.

 

“Unless what?”

 

“Unless… we try that sharecropping idea Cinna was talking about.” I look up at him from the corner of my eye, trying to gauge his reaction. He doesn’t look skeptical, which is a good sign.

 

“You want to try sharecropping?” He asks.

 

“I don’t know,” I say. “It was an idea. It might not go over well with the community.”

 

“But you want to try it.” There’s no hint of ridicule or amusement in his voice. In fact, he sounds almost in favor of it.

 

“Yes,” I say. “But I don’t know how to handle it if it goes wrong.” And it could go wrong. In so many ways. The community is already upset with me as it is.

 

Peeta takes my hand in his. “It’s up to you, Katniss,” he says. “I’ll support you in whatever you decide.”

 

“Support me?” I repeat, looking at him blankly.

 

“Yes,” he smiles. “We’re still getting married, aren’t we?”

 

My eyebrows wrinkle together. “Yes…”

 

He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to keep thinking you have to do this alone. We’ve been a team for some time, Katniss.”

 

This brings a smile to my face, along with an overwhelming sense of relief. I look into his blue eyes. The way the moonlight falls on his eyelashes casts slight shadows on his skin. It also makes his golden hair gleam. “You’re right,” I say. “We’ve been a team since before we even fell in love.”

 

His mouth twists into a crooked smile. “Maybe you have,” he says. “I’ve been a goner since that morning I heard you sing.”

 

“Really?” I remember that morning last spring. It wasn’t long after he first arrived in our lives. And now that he mentions it, I do remember the odd way he reacted. Or at least, it seemed odd at the time. All the sidelong glances, and the way I’d catch him watching me when I’d turn around sometimes. It all adds up now.

 

“Yes, really,” he says. “I’ve been waiting for an encore ever since.”

 

I give him a long look as I think this over. I’ve turned him down twice now. Aside from that time he caught me, I haven’t sung since my father died. It’s seemed like a worthless hobby, when I’ve been so focused on keeping my family alive, and safe from unfriendly associations. But now it doesn’t seem fair somehow, to keep this from him. Not after all he’s done to help me, to protect me, and my family by default. So I search my memories for old songs my father used to sing to me. When I settle on one, I fix my eyes straight ahead of me and quietly begin singing.

_Thou wilt come no more, gentle Annie,_   
_Like a flower thy spirit did depart;_   
_Thou art gone, alas! like the many_   
_That have bloomed in the summer of my heart._

_Shall we nevermore behold thee;_   
_Never hear thy winning voice again --_   
_When the Springtime comes, gentle Annie,_   
_When the wild flowers are scattered o'er the plain?_

_We have roamed and loved mid the bowers_   
_When thy downy cheeks were in their bloom;_   
_Now I stand alone mid the flowers_   
_While they mingle their perfumes o'er thy tomb._

_Ah! the hours grow sad while I ponder_   
_Near the silent spot where thou art laid,_   
_And my heart bows down when I wander_   
_By the streams and the meadows where we strayed._

 

When I’m finished, Peeta doesn’t make a sound. I dare to glance at him, and find him just staring at me, smiling. “Thank you,” he murmurs when he catches my eye. I nod and look down at my hands, feeling my cheeks grow warm. Peeta pulls me to him and gives me a kiss on my forehead. I linger in his warmth for a moment after his lips break contact. Then my head tilts up on its own accord, and meet those warm lips with my own. It’s a slow, soft kiss that makes something stir deep inside me. Even after he pulls away, I wrap my arms around his neck and rest my head against his shoulder. Peeta rests one hand protectively on my back, and nestles his head on mine.

 

“Peeta,” I mumble after some time. “I want to… I want marry soon. That is, if you do, too.”

 

He nods. “I think I could be talked into that,” he says, grinning down at me. “But why the urgency?”

 

“No real reason, I suppose,” I tell him. “I just think we’ve waited long enough. And it would be easier to take care of each other if we were married. Easier to help each other.”

 

“You’re right,” he says as he plants another kiss on my forehead. “Let’s get married.”

 

We whisper plans with each other for the rest of the evening, until it’s time to go to bed.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Thought I'd fit in an AHU update before Catching Fire debuts here in the States. :D The next few chapters are pretty good ones, so I'm looking forward to updating with them in the near future. 
> 
> The song Katniss sings to Peeta is "Gentle Annie," written by Stephen Foster. You can hear a performance of the song here: http://youtu.be/A0ttY5dUVF0
> 
> For anyone interested, I have another WIP started that takes place during the events of Catching Fire and Mockingjay. It's a canon divergent AU, called The Tigers Come at Night. You can find it on my profile. :)
> 
> Huge thanks, as always, to feeding_geese, allies-person and Chelzie for all their help! And a great, big special thanks to Chelzie for helping me find the song for the chapter!
> 
> Enjoy Catching Fire!!!


	14. Chapter 14

A week passes. Then two. Peeta practices getting around on crutches, with me by his side to encourage him. We leave Atlanta to return home. The trip is far more subdued this time. “I liked being in Atlanta,” Peeta says as we’re leaving the city’s outskirts. “They’ve really come a long way.” He doesn’t say more, but I can tell what he’s thinking. Atlanta has come a long way since he burned it to the ground. I’m glad he was able to see it.

Once home, his rehabilitation continues. It’s a good thing we have Haymitch, because there are certain things I can’t do for Peeta. Things like helping him dress, for example. But in every other way I can help him, I do. Mainly, this is by keeping him entertained, since there isn’t much he can do on his own. Since I no longer have him to help cover for my hunting, I spend my newfound free time to be with him. We begin to work on the family book, which is an old thing put together by someone on my mother’s side. My father added a section on edible plants, which was my guidebook when I began foraging on my own. Even in the few months that I’ve been doing so, I’ve picked up things here and there that I want to add myself. But having no artistic ability myself, it’s been impossible.

That’s where Peeta comes in. Since he’s an artist, he sketches the plants as I describe or show them to him. Then, in my best handwriting, I put everything I know about the plant down on the page. It’s quiet, absorbing work, but I can tell it helps Peeta feel useful. One day he suddenly looks up, and gives me a smile. “It’s nice that we can spend time together like this,” he says. “I almost feel like I have a second chance to court you properly.”

“Yes,” I say. “Nice.”

Soon, a month has gone by. As he grows accustomed to using his crutches, we begin taking walks together in the afternoon. Never anywhere too far out of sight from the house, since disappearing from vision like that would arouse too much suspicion. But we make our rounds over the property, slowly but surely.

It’s during one of these walks that it happens. As the front of the house comes into view, a curious sight waits for us. A horse and buggy are pulled up on the front path in front, and a group of people I don’t recognize are crowded around it. I look to Peeta, but he’s no longer next to me. In fact, he stopped several paces behind me, with an incredulous look settled on his face.

“What is it?” I ask.

Peeta’s mouth opens and closes, like he’s trying to speak, but no sound comes out. His eyes stay pinned on the sight in front of us.

“Do you know them?” I try prodding again.

My words seem to stir some kind of a reaction in him, because his mouth spreads into a wide grin. Finally, he tears his eyes away from the sight of our visitors and he looks at me. “They’re my family,” he says.

“They are?” I ask. Then the meaning of his words sink in. His family. He hasn’t seen them in ages! Not since he’s been here, that much I know for certain. And I’m not even sure when the last time he took leave to visit them was. I twist my head around to get another look at them. Peeta’s family. Here at last. I knew he had written to them, a long letter explaining the sudden drastic changes in his life: becoming engaged to a woman, then subsequently losing his leg from defending her. He had asked them to attend our wedding; we received the response only a few days ago, but were not sure when their actual arrival would occur.

From behind me, I hear Peeta’s crutches in the dirt as he makes his way beside me. He’s still grinning, glancing between the group ahead and me. “Come on,” he says. “Are you ready to meet them?”

“Are you?” I counter; because it’s been so long, I wonder if Peeta will be able to contain himself. But at the same time, I’m not sure what my own answer to his question is.

Peeta just shakes his head, his smile unwavering. “I’m not sure. It’s been so long. But I’m so excited to introduce you to them!” His blue eyes sparkle when he looks at me.

I wish I were as excited as he is. But this is a moment I don’t think I ever could have had enough time to prepare for. I know that Peeta has written to his family about me, and I don’t doubt he was anything but flattering. But how much do they know about me, exactly? About the extent of my relationship with Peeta? I doubt he told them about our more intimate experiences with each other, but do they know I broke off another engagement to accept his proposal? Even those questions are nothing compared to how they feel about the fact that I’m from the South. Could they possibly approve of their brother marrying a girl from the enemy’s side?

These are the thoughts that eat away at me as we make our way to the group. By now, Mama and Prim have made their way outside to greet the party. Prim is the first to spot us. She must say something to the others, because the group turns around to look. Suddenly, my legs seem to turn to molasses. At least, it takes a real effort to keep going. I do fall a few steps behind Peeta, but for his sake I keep moving. Besides, I’ll have to face them some time.

“Peeta Mellark!” A plump blonde woman cries out when we’re only a few yards away. She must be his sister-in-law, the one Peeta said would be like his sister even if she hadn’t married his brother.

“Delly!” Peeta yelps in response, confirming my suspicion. His grin stretches further across his face, if that’s possible, and he quickens his pace to the best of his ability while the blonde woman, Delly, hurries over to him, her arms out-stretched to embrace him. When they meet, she wraps her arms tightly around him, as he attempts to return the hug while balancing precariously on the crutches by situating the handles under his armpits. I stand idly behind Peeta, not sure what to do.

Delly begins chattering excitedly, and as they draw apart, she keeps his hands in hers, all while making a big to do about wanting to “get a good look at him.” Peeta answers her questions dutifully, promising her that he’s eating well, washing up daily, along with a host of other things.

“I’m well taken care of, Delly,” he assures her with a laugh. “I’m getting married, remember? My fiancée looks after me well.” This is when Peeta first seems to realize that I’m not there, as he glances to his side with a confused expression, then searches around until he spots me behind him. “Katniss.” He gives me a strange look as if to ask what I’m doing back here, but smiles at me nonetheless. “Come meet my sister-in-law.”

I nod as I find it in me to move forward to stand at Peeta’s side. “Delly,” he smiles, “This is my fiancée, Katniss Everdeen.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Mellark,” I offer my best curtsey, all the while thinking how ironic it is for me to call her by a name that will soon apply to me as well. But this is the first time I have ever really thought about it. Mrs. Mellark.

Delly Mellark returns the gesture. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Miss Everdeen,” she offers, giving me a quick once over. “It’s so nice to finally meet the young woman who stole Peeta’s heart. He’s mentioned you often in his letters.”

“All good things, I hope,” I manage to smile as I say it.

“Oh, yes! Peeta had nothing but lovely things to say about you.” Delly smiles.

Peeta shifts beside me. “What else could I say?” He smiles at me. “She’s been by my side this whole time since the amputation.”

I give a tight-lipped smile of my own. “How could I not be?” I say.

Delly gives me a look before she begins fussing over Peeta’s leg. I watch her as she does. She really could be Peeta’s sister. Same ashy blonde hair, same blue eyes. She’s shorter than Peeta is; maybe around my height. They even have similar mannerisms. The only real difference is that where Peeta is trim and muscular from his days on the battlefield and helping around here, Delly has some extra weight to spare. Though I suppose having several children might do that. I put my hand on my stomach and wonder if I am carrying a child, will it end up looking the same way?

Peeta’s brother has made his way over by now. The resemblance is almost uncanny, or at least it would be if it weren’t for the fact that they’re brothers. Really, it’s the resemblance Delly has to either one of them that’s truly uncanny. Peeta once mentioned that his family was from a Dutch-dominated settlement in Nebraska, though, so I suppose that would explain it. His brother, though, is built like he is, but with a more angular face. Peeta’s face lights up at the sight of him. When he’s close enough, he attempts to free one arm from the crutches to hold it out for a shake. But his brother surprises him by bringing him in for a hug.

“It’s good to see you again, little brother,” he says.

“You too,” Peeta says. His eyes are closed tight; I get the feeling Peeta is trying to push away tears.

When they break apart, his brother holds him back at arm’s length, his hands still clasped on Peeta’s shoulders. He gives Peeta the same sideways grin that Peeta sometimes gives me when he’s feeling particularly playful, and cocks an eyebrow at him. “So you’re getting married, Peeta? Why haven’t you introduced me to your fiancée yet?”

Peeta chuckles, and turns towards me, introducing me to his brother. “Katniss, this is Ryland,” he tells me, and his brother gives an exaggerated bow.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Everdeen,” he says to me. “I was curious what the woman who stole my brother’s heart would be like.” He gives an amused grin to Peeta. “She’s darker than Ma would have wanted. Still rebelling, Peeta?”

Peeta rolls his eyes. “Stop it, Ryland,” he warns his brother. Then to me, he says, “Our mother had her heart set on us marrying good Dutch girls.”

“Good?” I frown at him.

Immediately, I can see he regrets his choice of words. “Maybe ‘good’ wasn’t the right way to put it,” he explains. “More like, she wanted us to marry within our culture. Like Ryland and Delly here.”

I don’t know what to say to this. Fortunately, Delly comes to my rescue by changing the subject to Peeta’s amputation, asking him question after question until he gives a laugh that quiets her.

“One thing at a time, Delly,” he tells her. “Shouldn’t we at least wait until we’re inside and seated before we discuss that?”

“Yes, of course. You’re right.” She smiles.

We make our way back over to the wagon that they arrived in, where Prim and our mother stand watching. Beside them stand two little boys. They must be Delly’s and Ryland’s sons. Both seem unsure of themselves, but when we reach them, Delly tells them to greet their Uncle Peeta properly.

“He’s been away at war for a very long time,” she tells them. Both walk over, and Peeta, grinning beside me, hugs them both to the best of his ability.

“Shall we move inside?” Mama offers as soon as salutations have been exchanged. “I’m afraid the only one I have to help you with your luggage at the moment is my brother-in-law, but I’m certain he would help you carry it in to your quarters.”

“That’s fine, Mrs. Everdeen,” Ryland smiles. “My boys and I can manage. Just let me know where I can hitch these horses?”

Mama smiles and points him in the direction of the carriage house across the way. She attempts another offer to have someone escort them over, at least, but Peeta’s brother only waves her off while his sons unload the chests from the back and carry them upstairs. As Ryland steers the horses away, the rest of the group heads into the house.

Once inside, Mama ushers the group into the parlor. “Katniss,” she says, rounding on me to give me a pointed look, “Why don’t you bring us our tea?”

My first instinct is to utter some sort of question--why can’t she do it, or Prim? But I catch myself as I glance around the room at my soon to be in-laws. Right. So without a word, I nod and make my way to bring the tea.

By the time I get back, Ryland has returned and everyone is seated. Trying to remember everything that Mama and even Effie Trinket have taught me, I begin to serve the tea.

“No sugar for me, thank you,” Peeta tells me when I reach him.

Forgetting myself a little, I can’t help giving him a smile. “I remember,” I say as I hand him a cup of black tea. His fingers brush against mine as he takes the saucer, and his blue eyes shine as they look up at me.

“Peeta has never cared for sugar in his tea,” Delly comments. “Ever since we were children.”

“How interesting,” I say, and give her the best smile I can muster.

Delly looks at me, then looks back at Peeta. “Peeta,” she says in a serious voice despite the smile on her face, “How are you doing? You poor thing! We were devastated when we received Katniss’s telegraph!”

Peeta and I exchange a glance before he answers. “It was hard at first,” he admits. “But I’ve been well-cared for.” He shoots me a warm smile.

Delly looks me over thoughtfully. “I’m glad she was here to care for you,” she says. But something about her tone lets me know that she isn’t really glad, at least not completely. But I try to brush it off, for Peeta’s sake.

“She’s been doing a wonderful job,” Prim speaks up. “She spends as much time with him as she can, and attends to his every need.” Mama gives her a disapproving look, but I can’t help feeling proud. My sister, at least, is here to defend me and for that, I am grateful.

Delly just smiles and changes the conversation to a more general subject. Small talk is made until finally my mother rises and excuses herself, explaining she has to leave to prepare supper. She brings Prim with her. I move to get up to help them, too, but she motions for me to stay where I am. So I stay in my seat, all alone to deal with Peeta’s family.

Once we’re alone, Delly turns to Peeta and gives him another warm smile. “It’s just so good to see you again, Peeta!” She tatters on. “We’ve missed you back in Nebraska, we really have. Why, the bakery just isn’t the same without your hand there to decorate the cakes and things. Ry, he just doesn’t have the hand for it.” She beams at her husband, who is just coming in with his children and settles down beside his wife with something of a sarcastic grin in her direction.

“That’s right,” he says. “I never did have your hand for it. And Delly never lets me forget it.”

Peeta laughs at this, and joins in on the gentle ribbing. The three of them go back and forth for some time, telling Peeta about all the things that have changed since he left home five years ago to join the Army.

“I hope you will come up to visit us soon, at least,” Delly says.

Peeta glances over at me. “I would like to show Katniss where I grew up,” he says. “But I don’t know when we’d be able to travel up there.” I smile at him and nod. He’s never mentioned any trips to Nebraska to me before, but it’s certainly not out of the realm of ordinary that he might want to take me there. I have to admit, I am a little curious to see what it’s like.

Delly nods, looking slightly crestfallen. “Well, anyway. At least we get to be here for the biggest day in your life,” she says. “Katniss, you must be very excited.”

“I am,” I nod, and try to put on my most convincing smile. It isn’t that I’m not excited, but more that I’m ready to get it over with. So much has happened just to get to this point, that the sooner we’re married, the better I’ll feel. “I think mostly I’m just eager to have it done, though.”

She laughs. “I imagine!” She asks Peeta some more questions, and I’m relieved that I mostly only have to sit and occasionally smile and nod politely for the rest of the conversation.

Watching Peeta with his family is like watching him become a whole new man. It’s as if I’m seeing a side of him I’ve never seen before. Somehow he becomes younger, and the grown man I know seems to become like a boy again in their presence. Seeing this in action during supper, I can’t help letting my mind drift to some of Peeta’s and my more intimate moments like our rendezvous today, and idly I wonder what they would think if they knew about that side of him. But they don’t. That’s a side reserved only for me.

At bedtime that night, I move to help Peeta down the hall to his bedroom, but Delly beats me to the punch, insisting that she and Ry take him down, and Ry helps him get ready for bed. Though I’d rather not, I let them. All it takes is me imagining how I would feel seeing Prim for the first time in ages in such a state, and I know I have to let them.

The next morning, everyone is up bright and early to begin preparations for our engagement party. I want to catch Peeta early so I can get a chance to have a word with him privately, but even though I’m awake before dawn, so is Delly. I find them at the dining table, chatting. At first, I just watch them. I mean to slip away and let them talk to each other alone, but before I get a chance to, Peeta catches sight of me.

“Katniss,” he smiles, his eyes sparkling as he stands up and crosses over to where I stand. He dares a chaste kiss on the forehead. Even as I accept it, I feel Delly’s eyes burning into us from the table.

“Come, sit with us,” Peeta says, and I follow as he hobbles back over. I take a seat between the two of them, and quietly wait for one of them to pick the conversation back up.

“Peeta and I were just talking about when we were children,” Delly says. “Well, we were talking about the war first and how things went for him, but then we started reminiscing and got back on the subject of when we were children.” She pauses to take a breath, and looks back at Peeta. “Remember how your father used to make us dolls made out of dough?”

“Yes,” Peeta laughs.

“I always ask Ry to do the same for our children, but he always refuses,” she continues with slight irritation. “But you will, won’t you, Peeta? You’ll make dough dolls for your children, when you and Katniss have them, right?”

Peeta shoots me a look, trying to conceal his amusement. “Sure I will, Delly.”

Delly beams and looks at me. “Peeta is going to be a great father. Don’t you worry,” she assures me. “And I’m sure you’ll make a great mother, too. What did you do when you were a child, Katniss?” she asks.

I blink, caught off guard. I glance at Peeta before I continue, but he’s just looking at me with curiosity. “Mostly played outside with my sister. Or my friends Finnick and Ga- “ It’s hard for me to finish, after all that’s happened. But I can’t deny the friendship we once had. “Gale.”

Delly nods and continues the conversation. More like dominates it, really. She’s one of the most talkative people I’ve ever met, which is saying something. But really… she’s maybe one of the friendliest people I’ve ever met, too. Maybe Delly isn’t so bad.

One by one, our family members join us at the table. Mama and Prim prepare a breakfast, once again refusing to let me help on the grounds that I must entertain my soon to be in-laws. But it’s not so awkward this morning.

The day goes on. Delly proves herself even more useful by helping us prepare for the party. It won’t be much compared to the kinds of things thrown before the war, but with a little resourcefulness, we manage to make do. By early afternoon, we’re beginning to welcome neighbors. Peeta stands by my side as we receive them.

It’s interesting, the people who show up. One man, Seneca Crane, a known Yankee hater, arrives with his wife, whose name I realize I don’t know. She’s always taken second fiddle to her husband’s presence for as long as I’ve known them. Mr. Snow arrives, and gives us a look over before he flashes a poised smile and congratulates us on our engagement. I’m pleased when Cinna and Portia arrive, giving us both a hug as they also congratulate us. I’m relieved when Finnick arrives with Annie and their son, but not so pleased when I see who’s with them.

“Mr. Heavensbee… “ I say, and don’t even bother to smile as he shakes Peeta’s hand. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“I was invited by the Odairs!” he informs me. “Hope that’s all right, of course. They’ve been very kind to me ever since they let me take their spare bedroom. Too kind to allow me to come along here as well.”

“You’re staying with the Odairs?” I ask, shooting Finnick a look. He doesn’t meet my eyes, but Annie has a concerned look on her face. Good. And they have the audacity to frown on my marrying Peeta?

“Pleasure to be here for such a happy occasion,” Plutarch Heavensbee continues. “Congratulations.”

We nod our acceptance as they move on. Once out of earshot, Peeta looks over at me. “That was the man who offered to buy your property?”

“The very same,” I say.

But Plutarch Heavensbee doesn’t prove to be the most controversial guest in the end. The other soldiers--specifically Thresh--make an appearance that causes everyone’s tails to go wagging. But they clear out quickly enough.

Once it’s clear most of our guests have arrived, I help Peeta up the porch stairs as we make our way back into the house. I make sure he’s settled before I begin mingling with the crowd. It’s not exactly my strongest skill, playing hostess, as I would much rather be with Peeta and his family than doing this. But I know Mama would kill me if I didn’t at least attempt to offer our guests the proper hospitality. “After all,” I can hear her saying, “They came just for you.”

I’m walking past a group of three girls, their blonde heads bent together in conspiring gossip, when I overhear something that makes me stop in my tracks.

“Well, this whole thing is such a disgrace,” one of them, Glimmer, informs the two other girls. “It’s bad enough to break off her engagement to Gale Hawthorne. But to break it off for a Yankee!” She shakes her head as if the shame of it all is too much for her.

“So the rumors are true?” another girl asks.

“Oh, of course!” Glimmer assures her. “I heard it from my mother, who heard it from Effie Trinket. Mr. Mellark asked her to marry him before it was even announced that the engagement was off! She was probably fooling around with him right under poor Gale’s nose. Watch her stomach in the coming months. There’s probably a little Yankee bastard brewing in there now!”

There’s a collective gasp from the group as all three girls shake their heads, scandalized.

“I overheard my father say he thinks that Yankee is just after her for her land.”

“Probably in cahoots with that Heavensbee fellow,” the other one snorts.

Shooting a glare in their reaction that they don’t catch, I move on, feeling sick to my stomach. I suppose Mama was right about everyone suspicious about our marriage. How stupid I’ve been! And I can’t help feeling especially angry with Glimmer for her self-righteous attitude. Wasn’t she the one teasing me for being too pure to spy on Peeta bathing back before anyone even knew about us? Has she forgotten how she said she wanted to do it herself? How dare she be so superior now!

The comment about him only wanting me for my land has me pretty worked up, too. This is the first I’ve caught wind of that particular theory. The thing is, even I have to admit I can see why anyone might suspect that, given scoundrels like Plutarch Heavensbee that have shown up from the North to buy up land from those who can’t afford to pay the taxes, which is most of us. Sure, the taxes are too much for us down here, with the entire economic system collapsed. But the land is probably dirt cheap to the Yankees, who didn’t rely on slavery and servitude the way plantations did down here. And Peeta is a young man looking to start a life after fighting in a war. And he’s such a smooth liar… My feet slow down as I consider this.

Could Peeta be using me for my land?

I frown at the thought of this, not wanting to believe it. But I can’t deny he’d have the motive to do it. I stand there, waging an internal debate over the issues, while my eyes roam across the party and fall on the man in question. He sits with his brother and Delly, the latter chattering away about something, but Peeta clearly isn’t paying attention. Instead he’s focused on watching me. And there’s no mistaking the lovesick look on his face.

Relief rushes through me; of course Peeta is marrying me out of love! I feel horrible for even considering otherwise. He’s gone through so much by now in order to marry me. He even lost his leg for me! No man who just wanted my land would go through all of that on my behalf. My legs begin to move again, carrying me across the way to meet him. His eyes rise to mine as I approach, and he moves to get up. Delly sees his attempts and stops talking, glancing over until she sees me and understands what Peeta is trying to do. Quickly, she leaps to her feet and helps Peeta to his. She watches with a slight frown as he hobbles out to meet me halfway.

“How do you like the party?” I ask him.

Peeta gives a grimace, which makes me laugh a little. “It’s fine,” he says, then lowers his voice. “Except I keep getting dirty looks from people.”

I slowly let a breath out through my nose, then nod. “I don’t think everyone is exactly celebrating our union,” I admit.

“You expected that, though,” he says.

“I did,” I agree.

“But something else is wrong?”

I weigh out whether or not I should tell him what I heard the girls talking about earlier. I decide it might not hurt to be honest with him. “I heard some of the girls talking,” I explain to him.

He checks my face. “And?”

I tell him what they said. “And the worst part is that it might be true,” I sigh. “My stomach could begin to grow in a few months. Then what?”

To my surprise, he just shrugs. “For all they know, you’ll have conceived on our wedding night,” he says. “It happens. My parents conceived my brother shortly after they were married.”

“That’s true,” I admit. “I wasn’t born long after my parents married, either. I guess Mama was right about our wedding being held sooner rather than later.” Now it’s my turn to check his face, thinking over my next words before I say them. “They also said there’s a rumor you’re only marrying me for my land.” I let it out, and realize I’m dreading his response.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Katniss. I’m marrying you for your cooking.”

For some reason - maybe because of the way he says it without missing a beat - I laugh. Peeta retains a neutral face, except I see the gleam in his eyes.

“We’ll just have to ignore them, Katniss. They’ll see the truth soon enough. And even if they don’t, does it matter?”

“No, I suppose not,” I agree.

We’re interrupted when, of all people, Madge Undersee walks up and greets us. And even though her smile seems genuine, I can’t help immediately going on the defensive.

“Congratulations on your coming union,” she tells us.

“Thank you,” Peeta answers. He appears genuinely touched, but I remain suspicious. I give her thin-lipped smile and a curt nod of my head. My arm slips through Peeta’s and I hold onto him tightly.

“Katniss,” she says and takes a step closer to me. “I truly am so happy for you.”

“Thank you,” I say. “Haven’t you begun seeing Gale Hawthorne?”

I can see this has the desired effect. Madge frowns, but, to my surprise, she doesn’t appear offended. “He has started calling on me, yes,” she admits. “But… “ She looks around, checking to see how many might be listening in on us, then seems to decide it doesn’t matter. “I don’t necessarily agree with him.”

“You don’t?” This is not going the way I expected it to.

“No,” she shakes her head. “I know you would never want to hurt him on purpose,” she says. “I think-” She blushes as she glances at Peeta. “I think you really must have fallen in love if you thought the risk of ending your engagement to him was worth it.”

Surprised, I look to Peeta for guidance. He gives me a look that tells me he doesn’t know what to think either, and looks pointedly back to Madge. I do the same. “Th-thank you,” I say, knowing I must look as confused as I sound.

“Anyway, I think it’s better that you’re marrying for love instead of throwing yourself at any single man with money, like some girls,” she says, and I note with both astonishment and amusement that she looks pointedly in Glimmer’s direction. I wonder if she overheard the same conversation I did. “You know, I heard she was flirting with that Yankee soldier, Marvel,” she says with some disgust, then looks embarrassed when she catches herself. “No offense meant, Mr. Mellark,” she tells Peeta.

“None taken.” He sounds amused himself, fortunately.

All this has me finally letting my guard down at last. Maybe Madge is better than I realized she is. Maybe she’s more trustworthy. Of course, she may also be simply grateful that I freed up Gale for her sake. But it’s better than the alternative. I’ll take it, whatever her reasoning may be. Without considering it first, I speak up. “Madge, will you be coming to our wedding ceremony?”

She brightens immediately. “Do you want me there?”

“Of course,” I nod.

She retains her smile. “I will certainly be there,” she assures me. Good. I realize now that this is actually a relief, to have someone else in the community who may actually be happy for Peeta and me.

We’re interrupted by Mama calling the party’s attention. She motions for Peeta and I to join her, so asking Madge to excuse us, we make our way over. With us by her side, she begins to make a short speech, letting the party know how grateful she is that they attended to celebrate the wedding of her oldest daughter. Everyone pays her polite attention, but it’s clear there’s something of a chill in the air. When Mama finishes, motioning for attention to turn to Peeta and myself, the silence is so painfully awkward. The three of us stand there awkwardly, while the party sort of applauds, but only because they want to save face.

Then Haymitch, who has had a little too much to drink, pipes up from off to the side. “Watch out, gentlemen! Better lock your daughters up, because the Yanks appear set to take off with our women!”

The group actually laughs at this, and just like that, all the tension seems to disappear from the room.  The party continues as the guests begin chattering with each other once more. Mama fixes Peeta and me with a look, then continues off to speak to some of her friends.

Peeta turns to me and gives me a smile. “If you don’t mind, I think I need to sit down for a little bit.”

“Of course,” I say, and follow him back to his seat. Delly and his brother are still there, but to my surprise, both have become caught up in conversation. I’m shocked when I realize it’s Finnick and Annie. When we reach them, I help Peeta lower himself down into the seat, taking his crutches and setting them aside, but still within reach. Delly looks like she’s going to interrupt the conversation, but when she sees me helping him, something makes her stop. She gives me a long look, like she’s studying me. Then, to my surprise, she actually smiles. And not just a polite smile, either. She actually looks like she approves.

So that’s two successes for us today, which is two more than I thought we would get.

“This is some party,” Peeta says once he’s settled. He smiles at me. “I’ve never had something like this done for me before.”

“Well, get used to it. That’s how we do things here in the South,” I say. “As long as we can afford it.” Which I’m not entirely sure we can. I fought with Mama for days about throwing this party for us, telling her there was no way we could afford it, and I doubted many people were excited to celebrate my engagement to a Union soldier anyhow, and besides, neither of us really cared. But Mama would not listen, and insisted on throwing us this party.

Peeta reaches for my hand, as if reading my thoughts. “Don’t worry,” he promises. “We’ll have money coming in soon, once we get the sharecropping started.”

I frown. “But that’s still a while away, Peeta.” We decided not to begin it until after our marriage. It would be too much to think about otherwise. “Besides, even then there’s no guarantee that it’ll pay off.”

“I know,” he agrees. “But I think it will. And I keep promising I can support us on my soldier’s pay.” But even as he says it, I can see the worry in his eye. Peeta has been on some kind of leave since his amputation. The money is coming in, but for how long? With the war over, he could easily be discharged, and then where would we be? It was one reason we agreed to the sharecropping. But it’s still no promise. Besides, who knows how long it will be before we even see the first profit?

“Try not to worry too much about it for the next week,” he tells me, and leans over to kiss me on the forehead. “This next week is supposed to be a happy one for us.”

Despite the stress, I find myself smiling at him. “You’re right,” I say. So for the rest of the party, I push the thoughts away from my mind and for the first time, allow myself to feel as happy as a bride should feel.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the wait. Chapter 15 is also written, and in the hands of the betas. It'll be posted within a day or two.
> 
> This chapter ties into another outtake I wrote, "Idle Gossip." You can read it by clicking on my profile. :)
> 
> Thanks as always to feeding_geese, Chelzie, and allies-person for all their help!


	15. Chapter 15

The days march forward, seeming both painfully slow and almost too quick at once, until finally the morning of the wedding arrives. I awaken earlier than usual, but not from excitement or the need to prepare or anything like that.

It’s because my stomach is almost violently upset.

Prim wakes up to find me hunched over the chamber pot, heaving, though nothing comes out. Without hesitating, she crawls over to me and strokes my hair out of my face, holding it so it doesn’t get in the way.

“Oh, Katniss,” she sighs. “I’m so sorry. What a horrible way to begin your wedding day.”

All I can do is look helplessly at her. A feeling of guilt washes over me, and something else, something I don’t expect. Dread. Though I don’t have time to examine why before I’m retching again. I’m trying to figure out how I can possibly explain this to Prim when she comes up with the excuse herself.

“It must be nerves,” she says.

Yes! Claiming this is happening because I’m nervous is the perfect explanation, so I go with it right away. “Yes,” I smile weakly, nodding my head at her.

She gives me a sympathetic smile. “I know it’s a lot to take on, Katniss. But you’re going to be a wonderful wife. You already take care of everything around here. And Peeta loves you so.”

“Thank you,” I mutter, but I am honestly touched by my sister’s belief in me. Though she’s right about my ability to keep a household running. It would have fallen to shambles after my father’s death had it not been for me.

Prim’s cheeks are flushed as she continues. “And… and I’m sure your wifely duties won’t be so bad, either,” she says.

“Prim!” I’m more shocked by her forwardness than anything. The idea that my little sister, who is so pure and uncorrupted in my eyes, should suggest that she even knows anything about such things is unthinkable to me.

“Sorry,” she says quickly. “I just don’t want you to feel nervous.”

I nod, comforted by the fact that she at least is still pure enough not to recognize this bout of illness for what it really is. Which is the most solid proof yet that I really am with child, making Prim’s concern all the more ironic.

Prim has me lay down on the bed while she wets a cloth and rests it on my forehead. It doesn’t do much, but it is relaxing. Maybe calming my nerves will help a little, at least. I don’t have long to relax, because within the hour, Mama and Delly both arrive at our room. It’s time to get me prepared for my big day.

When Mama sees me lying down still, her eyes furrow. “What’s wrong?” she asks.

“She’s nervous,” Prim explains. “I made her relax a little longer.”

Mama looks at me, and I nod in confirmation. Seemingly mollified, she crosses to the wardrobe and begins pulling items of clothing out. The dress itself was one that used to be Mama’s, a blue frock from around the time she married my father. It’s been altered in the last few weeks, and will now serve as my own wedding dress. That will be two generations of Everdeen women this dress has seen through.

First, though, I change into my undergarments. The fanciest pair of bloomers I have, which isn’t saying much considering all we’ve lost since the war. Petticoats, and then my mother and sister lace me up into a corset. After that, all three of them help me into the hoopskirt skeleton. Another layer of petticoats and then the main skirt and blouse go over that. All of this takes close to an hour, and we haven’t even begun on my hair. That takes another hour of Mama tying my tresses back into tight braids, while Prim and Delly dress themselves to be my bridesmaids. While I have my frustrations with the process, and my preoccupation over my condition, I have to admit that the atmosphere this morning is a happy one.

Just as I think we’re finishing, Mama speaks to Prim and Delly. “One moment, if you don’t mind, ladies. I need to have a word alone with Katniss.”

Both nod and turn to leave, Delly with a knowing look on her face. She likely suspects the same thing I do about the conversation I am about to have. Once the door closes softly behind them, Mama turns and takes my hands in hers. For a long time, she just stands there and looks me over. Emotion threatens to take over her features at any moment, but she remains together for the time being.

“Katniss,” she begins at last, “Once you are married, there are certain… duties you will be expected to perform as a wife.”

My cheeks must grow hot in record time, and I drop my eyes, not at all sure how I should navigate the rest of this conversation. Because what on earth can I tell her? That I’ve done the unthinkable, and have already had a few practice rounds of said duties? That I’m possibly already carrying her first grandchild and the vows haven’t even been swapped yet? Fortunately, my silence turns out to be the best option, because Mama takes it as the shy disposition of a virginal bride instead of what it really is, which is guilt.

She cups my cheek in her hand as she continues. “It’s the burden all wives must shoulder, I’m afraid,” she says. “You have to learn to grin and bear it. However…” she looks thoughtful before going on. “It’s not necessarily so bad when you love them.” She gives me a smile as she adjusts my veil, lowering it over my face, and I just barely have time to register what a fraud I am for wearing it like this when the door opens. Haymitch is there, insisting it’s time to start the ceremony. I’m surprised he’s being so punctual today, but really, he probably just wants to get the whole thing over with so he can start drinking right after.

The next half hour occurs as if something out of a dream. Arm in arm with Haymitch, we descend the steps to the aisle that’s been left for us between two rows of people. All eyes are on us. And there, at the end, is Peeta, looking handsome in a suit as he watches me approach with those blue eyes of his. In everything that we’ve shared so far - the teasing exchanges, the small things he’s done just to make me happy, the declarations of our feelings after intimacy - I have never seen him smile the way he’s smiling now. Everyone else disappears as I lock eyes with him, and even feel his infectious smile creep across my own face.

Once I reach him, all of his attention remains on me, even when the priest begins the ceremony. We don’t hold hands, since he is still propped up on his crutches for balance, but his eyes never leave my face. We exchange our vows like this, promising to love and protect each other for the rest of our lives. A round of applause rises as we kiss, some genuine and some polite. But it doesn’t seem to matter right now.

A meal is thrown shortly after, at which we are formally introduced into adult society as Mr. and Mrs. Mellark. After that, there’s a lot of socializing as Peeta and I receive congratulations on our union. People from all over the community approach us. Some are authentically happy for us. Most seem to be acting out of requited politeness. Madge, here with her parents and no fiance in sight, actually hugs me when she comes over. But she is the exception, not the rule.

“I can’t wait until we can get away and be alone,” Peeta mutters to me at one point. “This is exhausting.”

I bite back a grin that Peeta, of all people, is worn out by the socializing at his own wedding. Just in the nick of time, too, because Finnick and Annie approach us, throwing in their congratulations with the rest of the guests.

“Katniss!” Annie cries, holding my hands in hers, “I’m so happy for you! Congratulations!”

“Thank you, Annie,” I say, and Peeta nods in agreement. Then she steps aside, and there’s an awkwardness as Finnick regards us in silence. It’s obvious he means to say something, but nothing comes out. I can feel Peeta fidgeting next to me, most likely uncomfortable because he knows Finnick’s silence is because of him. But just as I sense he’s about to excuse himself, Annie squeezes Finnick’s arm, which seems to spur him to comment.

“Er… congratulations, Catnip,” he says.

I raise an eyebrow, but try to put on the good graces that Mama trained into me. “Thank you, Finnick,” I say cordially back.

He gives me a tight-lipped smile and nods, his features loosening as his smile becomes more bashful. “I’m trying, Katniss. Be patient with me.”

I want to shoot back that it can’t be all that hard for him to accept Yankees when he’s giving board to one who wants to do significantly more harm to us than Peeta, when who should sneak up from behind them? None other than Plutarch Heavensbee himself.

“Congratulations,” he tells us, as Finnick slinks away with Annie in tow.

“Thank you,” Peeta answers for both of us.

“So you’re the master of this property now, isn’t that correct, Mr. Mellark?”

Peeta frowns and glances at me before he answers. “I suppose that’s true…”

He gives a sly wink and leans in, grinning. “I have another type of proposal that might interest you.”

I’m not sure what he’s getting at, but I’m sure I won’t like it. Something about this whole thing feels wrong to me.

“Oh?” Peeta asks with polite curiosity. “What’s that?”

“This property,” Plutarch says. “I can offer you a fortune on it, now that it’s yours. I tried buying it off the previous mistress, but she wouldn’t stand to listen. Too caught up in grief for her husband, I suppose. But you seem like a sensible fellow, with a good background, if you catch my meaning.”

So that’s what bothers me about the situation. The insinuation that Mama or myself were somehow not fully competent enough to manage our household. That because I am a woman, and from the South, I can’t make a sensible decision in the way that someone like Peeta can. Without even thinking about it, I turn on my heel and stomp away. I hear Peeta excuse himself from Plutarch, then set out after me. “Katniss,” he calls out. I stop, since I guess I shouldn’t be alienating my husband on our wedding day, and wait for him to catch up.

“I’m sorry,” he says when he finally does.

“What for?” I ask. What do you have to be sorry about? I’m the one who has the most to lose.

“For- for what just happened,” he explains. “I can’t believe he’d try something like that. And on today of all days!”

I don’t answer him at first, instead opting to look him over carefully as I think it over. No, I don’t really want to be upset over this. Not right now, at least. Peeta and I already overcame a lot just to get to this point. Ruining it by being upset over Plutarch Heavensbee’s proposal isn’t something I’m interested in doing. Besides… Peeta has proved time and again that he’s on my side. We have our plans for how to earn the money ourselves, to keep the land in my family. Our family, I correct myself.

“Do you want to try the cake?” he asks, obviously changing the subject in an attempt to smooth things over. “I helped make it myself.”

“I’d love to,” I answer, returning his warm smile.

The cake, though not particularly fancy, is delicious. When I tell Peeta as much, he looks particularly pleased. I think it must mean something to him that he was able to do something, after feeling so useless because of his leg. The first chance he gets when he knows no one is looking, he pulls me to him and gives me a kiss.

When evening comes, we bid our guests farewell, thanking them for sharing our union with us. Then it’s only our family left. With knowing smiles, they tell us how tired they are, how late it’s getting, and how if they’re as worn out as they feel, they can only imagine how tired we must be. All promise to retire for the night, but as I follow Peeta down the hallway to what is now our shared bedroom, I can just sense that everyone expects us to have anything but a restful night. It’s a strange feeling; what was once an activity we had to go to so much effort to hide from the world has now become expected behavior for us.

Peeta opens the door, then stands back to allow me through. “I’d carry you across the threshold, but considering the circumstances… “ He gives me a small smile. I give a light laugh, but don’t really know what to say. Peeta seems to sense this, though, because he smiles again, this time warmer.  “I’m joking,” he assures me. “But I do intend to do that once I have two feet again.” He motions into the room. “Please. After you, Mrs. Mellark.” I grin at the name.

Inside, the room is warm from a fire roaring in the fireplace. Someone has already brought down my belongings for me. Peeta closes and locks the door, which seems pointless since I doubt anyone will want to bother us until we emerge tomorrow morning, but I suppose old habits die hard. We both cross to the bed, and Peeta gently rests his crutches against the wall. I attempt to help him, but he waves me away. He has this act well-practiced.

“Katniss,” Peeta begins, “Now that this day has finally ended, I need to tell you something… “

“What is it?” I ask. Those blue eyes of his look straight into mine, serious and unblinking. He takes my hands and cups them in his, while I study him, trying to figure out what’s wrong.

He bites his lower lip as the corners of his mouth slowly rise to a grin. “I’m exhausted,” he says.

I have to laugh. “Me too,” I admit.

“Suppose we take it easy tonight?” he suggests.

“All right.” I smile. This isn’t how I imagined my wedding night to go, ever, but I can’t say I’m all that disappointed. It’s not like we haven’t been together before. As I stand up, I have to admit that I’m pretty tired myself. I peel off the blouse and layers of skirts and petticoats, then hold on to Peeta for balance while I crawl out of the teeming hoopskirt. “No wonder you like to wear men’s clothes,” Peeta says as he watches me take off the camisole next.

“Just help me get out of this corset, will you?” I ask. Peeta agrees, and I sit with my back to him. He begins fumbling with the ties

“How do you work this thing?” he asks after a minute. I let out another laugh, louder this time. “Never mind,” he says, “I think I figured it out.” Sure enough, a few seconds later, the corset loosens its grip on me. “How does that feel?”

“Much better,” I say. I stand up again and remove the corset, leaving me in my final two layers before I’m out of this outfit at last. I gather the various pieces of the dress, and cross to my chest, fishing out my nightgown before I tuck away a few pieces. The rest should be hung up, though. And there is only one wardrobe in here. I have to think about it for a minute before it dawns on me that we share it now. I hang my dress up beside Peeta’s blue uniform jacket and a few of his shirts.

I glance back at Peeta, who is stretched out on the bed watching me. When his eyes meet mine, he smiles and pats the empty space next to him. I cross over and crawl in next to him; he wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. “Well,” he says, “We did it. We’re married now.”

“We are,” I agree. “Is it everything you ever dreamed it would be?”

He laughs as he leans over and kisses me on my forehead. “And then some,” he says as his lips trail down the bridge of my nose and slant across my own. The kiss is deeper than I expect it to be, and something stirs inside me. He flips over onto his back so that I am straddled on top of him, all without breaking the kiss. When we do pull apart a minute later, my eyes lock with his, dark with lust. “You’re still in your suit,” I say.

“Why don’t you help me out of it?” He grins.

“I thought you were tired,” I say.

“I forgot. I got married today, and to the most beautiful woman in the world. It’d be a crime not to consummate our marriage as soon and often as possible.”

I blush for some reason, which seems strange since this whole situation is finally appropriate. Now that this man beneath me is no longer a stranger, only a suitor, or even an enemy, though I guess he still is that to some. But not to me. To me, he’s my husband. Just the thought makes me smile, and impulsively I lean in and give him another kiss. He meets it, and after a minute, pulls himself up to a sitting position. I take his suit jacket off of him and absently toss it aside. Then my fingers find the buttons on his shirt, and begin to undo them one by one. At first I go slowly, but Peeta deepens our kiss as I go along, and I find myself picking up the pace.

Peeta’s hands begin to wander my body. My eyes close and a sigh escapes me when he touches my chest for the first time. He takes a breast in each hand and firmly squeezes, making me gasp. His fingers slip between my legs, exploring the parts hidden behind the cloth of my nightgown. My back arches at the touch of his fingers on me, absently playing with me, rubbing the spot that always leaves me trembling.

Finally, I force myself away and climb off of him. He watches with a smile as I remove my nightgown and, naked and free from my clothing, crawl back on top of him and gently push him back down to the mattress. Now it’s my turn. I start to kiss him, first on the mouth with my fingers curling into his hair. Then on his neck, and all over his chest. I work my way down to the waist of his trousers, and can see Peeta shivering under my touch. I lean back and unfasten them, pulling them down. I’m pleased to see how hard he is already. It’s been a long time for both of us.

I stop just above the knee. This will be the first time I’ve seen Peeta’s amputation, and the thought slows me down a little. I’ll admit that the thought of it has made me a little uneasy for some time--I’ve been trying to decide how to handle it when the moment finally arrived. Maybe it’s best to get it over with in the same way this started - quickly and impulsively. Besides, even without looking, I know Peeta is studying me right now. I take a deep breath and pull the trousers off. I look long enough to see the stump before I tear my eyes back up to the rest of Peeta. And there’s plenty to see.

Maybe it’s because I’m desperate to concentrate on anything besides his leg. Maybe it’s because I could tell how much harder it was for Peeta to maneuver, which means this won’t be as easy for him. But whatever the reason is, I impulsively reach forward and take him in my mouth.

It’s soft but firm, and tastes a little salty. Peeta lets out a loud gasp at the feeling of my lips wrapped around him, and even sits up on his forearms a little to peer down at me. Almost as if he can’t believe I’d actually do such a thing. Which, truth be told, I can’t really believe, either. But now we’re here, and I may as well keep going. I suck on it the way I would a sweet treat, occasionally licking with my tongue. And after judging his responses, I begin to do so more often, alternating  between long licks up his shaft and long sucks. Almost instinctively, he begins thrusting his hips so that he’s moving in and out of my mouth. It almost makes me gag at first, but I learn how to work with the rhythm. We continue like this for I don’t know how long, and Peeta thrashes more and more at the sensation before he reluctantly stops me.

“I can’t--” he pants. “You have to stop that if you want me to pleasure you, too,” he explains as he pulls me back up to him. We kiss some more before Peeta pushes himself back to a sitting position. He buries his head between my breasts, then kisses his way to take one in his mouth, sucking a nipple in and out with desperate passion. His fingers slip back between my folds as he begins fingering that sensitive spot again, then sticks a finger inside of me, curling it over so that it runs along the walls. “I can’t believe how wet you are,” he tells me. “Let me taste you.”

I obey, and Peeta settles down as I lower myself on top of his face. He sets right to work, running his tongue all up and down my folds, lapping me up and making me moan as his tongue slips inside of me. It’s Heaven. I let him work on me just like I worked on him, until finally I can’t take it anymore.

“Stop,” I breathe. “I-- I--” I falter, not able to find the words for what I want.

“Me too,” he nods. “Will you do the honors?”

I don’t even bother to answer, instead moving quickly off of his face to cover his body with mine. Eagerly, I reach for him and guide him to my entrance.

It’s ecstasy for both of us. I can tell, even though my eyes flutter shut as he stretches me, because we both let out the same loud groan. “My God,” Peeta mutters, “I missed this.” That makes two of us. For a minute, I don’t even bother to move, instead opting to simply relish how it feels to be connected to him again, skin on skin, my chest against his. Our eyes meet, followed by our lips, completing the connection. Then, slowly at first, I begin to move.

“Katniss,” Peeta whispers between moans, and tangles his fingers between mine, pulling them up to kiss my hand while still held in his. Then he gives me the surprise of my life when he actually rolls us both over so he’s the one on top.

“Peeta?” I peer up at him in concern.

“I’m all right,” he says. “I just need to get my balance… “ It takes him a moment, but he does, and then he continues moving in and out of me once more. “I just wanted to be the one making you moan,” he explains to me, then devours my mouth with another kiss. I sigh against him and let out a loud groan, into his mouth, as he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside my body. We aren’t even trying to be quiet anymore. And why should we? We’re married now. There’s nothing or no one to tell us that what we’re doing is wrong.

My heart thrums as we finish, beating wildly in my chest. As Peeta pulls out, I want to pull him back to me, pull him close again. But he doesn’t go far. He carefully maneuvers himself so that he lays on his side, facing me. He gently pulls on me, and I move so that I’m on my side, mirroring his position, pressed flush against him. He tucks his left arm under my head so that it’s resting on it like a pillow. With his free arm, he finds my hand and entwines it with his. His blue eyes meet mine, and his smile is the most genuinely happy one I’ve seen him wear in ages. Then he’s kissing me, kissing me, kissing me.

“Katniss,” he mumbles clumsily. Kiss. “Katniss, I’m in love with you.” Something that sounds a lot like a giggle escapes me, but my head is far too hazy to question the alien sound. I greet every kiss he gives me, matching them all with the same fevered dedication until I feel my eyes drooping closed in exhaustion. We shift to a more comfortable position, Peeta on his back while I rest my head in that spot on his chest directly above his heart. I can hear his steady heartbeat lulling me off to sleep. Not much more is said between us besides I love you and goodnight.

****  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When I open my eyes again, sunlight pours in through the window. Peeta is still asleep underneath me, his arms still wrapped protectively around me. His eyes drift open when he feels me move in his arms. Upon seeing me, he gives me a sleepy smile. “Good morning,” he says.

“Good morning,” I answer.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” I smile back.

Peeta pulls me to him for a lingering kiss. “Me too,” he says.

We lay quietly for a while, just feeling each other. Between the soft quilt covering us, the warmth of being cradled in Peeta’s arms, and the peace of mind from knowing that no scandal can arise any longer if we’re found like this, I’m the most relaxed I’ve been in ages. Since before the war started, and my father was still here with us. A fleeting pang of regret courses through me at the thought. The only thing that could have made this occasion happier would have been if my father had been here to celebrate it. If he could have given me away instead of Haymitch. But I push the thought out of my mind, because it’s pointless to dwell on the things we can’t change. And Peeta makes me feel warm and safe.

Or at least he does until that same awful feeling of sickness that overtook me yesterday rears its ugly head again. In an instant, I’ve bolted up straight, holding my stomach as I search the room desperately. “Where’s the chamber pot?” I manage to get out.

Peeta looks at me, confused for a minute before he points towards the end of the bed. “There,” he says.

I crawl on my hands and knees to the foot of the bed. I just barely get the chamber pot into my hands before I’m emptying the contents of my stomach into it. It isn’t much, thankfully, but it’s enough to leave me feeling exhausted. I haven’t done this in ages. After I appear to be finished, I just sit there, hunched over the pot, with a layer of sweat breaking out over my forehead.

The bed shifts beneath me, and I feel my hair being pulled out of my face. Peeta begins rubbing a hand gently up and down my back. “Do you think it was something you ate last night?”

I shake my head.

“Then…” He doesn’t say it, but I think he has a pretty good guess as to what I suspect. “How do you feel now?” he asks.

“Awful,” I tell him. “I’m very tired.”

“Then come back to bed,” he says. He must see the way I’m looking at the door, because then he adds, “No one is going to come looking for you this morning. This time is ours.”

He’s right. This is the morning after my wedding day. My first morning as somebody’s wife. So I nod, placing the chamber pot down on the floor next to my side of the bed, and settle back in against Peeta, whose arms encircle me and pull me close as soon as my head meets his shoulder. He presses a kiss against my temple.

“Do you really think you’re with child?” he asks.

“I don’t know what else it could be now.” I let out a long breath. “What do I tell Mama?”

To my surprise, Peeta just laughs. “Katniss, we’re married now. You don’t have to tell her anything until you’re ready,” he says. “People won’t be quite so scandalized to learn you’re carrying my child. Most will probably even expect it.”

“That’s true,” I admit.

“A baby,” Peeta says, and there’s no mistaking the note of wonder in his voice. “I wonder if it will be a boy or a girl.”

“No telling,” I say.

“No. And it doesn’t matter, really. I can’t wait to meet him or her, either way.” He lets out a whistle. “A wife and a baby in the course of a day.”

“Aren’t you lucky,” I tease. But the smile Peeta gives me is genuine.

“Incredibly lucky,” he says. “Considering that a year ago, you hated me. And two years ago, I didn’t think I would survive long enough to start a family.”

“And now you have both. Almost,” I say.

“And now I have both, almost,” he agrees with a smile as he pulls me to him for another kiss.

“I didn’t really hate you.” I don’t know why that falls from my lips, because it’s not the reason why I’m starting to feel guilty.

“Really? Well, you put up a good act, then.” He’s grinning, but I frown.

“I was… “ I stop, not wanting to admit the truth. That I was scared. That I had watched as the Northern soldiers swept through our world, destroying everything in their path, and taking with them whatever was left. That when I first met Peeta, I had no idea he wasn’t going to be like the rest. That he was kind. That he would help my family, rather than hurt them or force his way on me or anything. Though I have to laugh at that thought, considering how I willingly gave myself to him anyway.

Peeta has been watching me with an amused look on his face. “What are you thinking about?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I say quickly. Then I add, “I was just remembering when we first met, how afraid I was you might take advantage of me.” I give him a sideways glance, then add, “Maybe I was right about that.”

“That’s not funny,” he frowns at me, but the corners of his mouth twitch up just a little when he sees the way I’m grinning at him. “Anyways, you came to me all on your own, didn’t you?”

It’s tempting to shoot back some sarcastic comment, but somehow, I can’t find it in me to do it. Looking into Peeta’s face, even though he’s teasing me, I can see there’s something in him that needs to hear the truth instead. So I give his arm a squeeze and smile up at him. “Yes,” I confirm. I did.

Satisfied, he pulls me even closer. There’s another kiss, and he says, quietly, “Good. I’m glad. And… and I’m so excited to start our family together, Katniss.”

Now it’s my turn to smile. Because for a moment, as I look up at him, feeling him wrapped protectively around my exposed body, skin on skin, I’m able to calm the anxiety I’ve felt about this new role in life I’m taking on. And with that out of my way, no longer distracting me, I realize… I’m excited to start our family, too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOL, I think it's been well over a year since I last put a sex scene in this story. It's about damn time! ;) Plus, they're married! Finally!
> 
> Big thanks to feeding_geese/bigbigbigday006, allies-person, and Chelzie for their help.


	16. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

 

The months that followed our wedding were tougher than we would have liked. We started the sharecropping a month into our marriage. Peeta, still unable to attend his duties because of his leg, was offered a position working in the new Freedman’s Bureau, an agency instituted by the federal government to ensure the newly freed slaves were able to find employment and education. If folks around here were already suspicious of him, taking that job did nothing to help matters. But after several heated confrontations, it became clear that neither Peeta nor the Freedman’s Bureau were going anywhere.

This sparked a change in the community. Some merely accepted that this was simply the way things were going to be now. Others made it clear they wouldn’t allow such a thing to happen without a challenge. Some, like Snow, actually up and moved to Atlanta, vowing to become involved with politics. Rumor was that he swore he would drink poison himself if it would get him a position where he had power to change things as he saw fit. Plutarch Heavensbee immediately moved in on his mansion, snapping the place up, rose gardens and all. It made him stop sniffing around our place, at least for a while, which was one burden off my back. Though it didn’t help our financial struggles any.

Peeta’s family stayed another month after we were wed. Maybe it was the way she saw me take care of Peeta, but Delly opened up more and more as the days went by. I soon learned she had been suspicious of my intentions when Peeta first told her of our love affair. Evidently, she’s now convinced that my feelings for him are real. At least she came around.

The troop Peeta was assigned to disbanded not long after he was assigned to the Freedman’s Bureau. We have officially entered in a time of peace, and the soldiers are no longer needed. The other soldiers who were stationed around took off immediately. At the news, I finally confessed, telling Thresh everything I knew about his sister. How she had been a house servant assigned to Prim before the war. How the two became so close, it was hard not to consider her as another sister, especially when the blood I carry is partially from the Indians that came from this land. I felt awful for not telling him before, but it was too hard for me to talk about. Though that pain can be nothing compared to what he must be feeling. Thresh accepted my information graciously, and set off early the next morning to search for her. He promised to write Peeta regularly, but so far nothing has arrived.

After a few months, the stump of Peeta’s leg has hardened enough that he can now be fitted for a prosthetic. Peeta is ecstatic to finally be able to move around on his own again. I have to admit, it’s a relief for me as well. In my condition, it would be nearly impossible to help him up if he fell with the crutches. Besides, something tells me Peeta will want to be able to carry around our newly arrived bundle when the time comes.

Entering society as a proper wife was not a comfortable task for me. As an unmarried girl, it was easy for me to do what I had to do in order to keep my family alive. No one blinked an eye when I slipped off to the woods, dressed up like a man to do a man’s work in hunting. No one was paying attention, not with their own troubles to keep them distracted. But once I became a wife, things changed. All eyes were on me now, especially with my choice of a husband being so unsuited to their tastes. The ironic part is that I no longer have the authority I once did, even if it was only because there was no one around at the time to take it. Now I’m supposed to stand quietly behind my husband, supporting him as he makes the decisions which were once mine to make.

My stomach swells, and I become more and more uncomfortable. After a certain point, I’m no longer even allowed outside. My condition is considered too inappropriate for modern sensibilities. So I stay confined inside while Peeta works long hours, desperate to feel the fresh air of the forest on my cheek. I’m terrified the first time I feel the baby stir inside me.

One day, I’ve taken more than I can bear. When I’m alone in the house, I slip out and make a dash for the trees. I can’t move very fast, but I still manage to reach them undetected. I only wander a short distance away until I reach a small meadow in a clearing in the woods. It’s remote enough that I should be undisturbed for quite a while. But Peeta should be able to find me if he comes looking.

And find me he does. I don’t even look up as I hear his footsteps approaching. “I’m not in the mood for a lecture,” I warn.

“I’ll try to keep it brief,” he says as he sits down next to me. “Bad day, huh?”

I stare off into the space in front of me before I answer. “I couldn’t take being cooped up any more,” I say.

“I don’t blame you,” he says.

I study him for a moment. “You know I’m not supposed to go out in my condition…”

“I do.” He smiles. “But I also know that keeping you confined inside is about as useless as trying to keep the mockingbirds from singing. I’m surprised you lasted this long. Or have you been sneaking off all this time and I only just now found out about it?”

“No,” I admit. “This is the first time.”

He takes my hand in his, and I stare down at our entwined fingers as he speaks. “Then I’m flattered you’re trying so hard. But you don’t need to.”

I tear my eyes away from our hands and look up into his gentle blue eyes peering back at me. “I don’t?”

He shakes his head. “I never expected you to, Katniss. I don’t care if you want to go outside. Just tell me where you’re going so I don’t panic and think something horrible has happened to you.”

I nod. “All right,” I murmur. Peeta frowns.

“But there’s something else bothering you, isn’t there,” he says plainly. It’s an observation, not a question. I’m reluctant to answer, but with a sigh, and his patience encouraging me, I begin to open up. About how much I dislike the dynamic of being a wife, about how much I miss him when he’s gone. And how afraid I am of being a mother.

“I’m scared, too, Katniss,” he admits quietly when I’m done.

“But you’re so excited,” I counter. “I wish I could be as excited as you.”

“I am excited,” he agrees. “But I’m terrified at the same time. After all I’ve been through with the war, how could I not be?”

There’s no good answer to that, and because of it, I say nothing. Peeta wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me close. “But I don’t want to let that fear control me for the rest of my life, Katniss,” he says. “And between the two of us, we should be able to protect our child.”

I nod, and, to my surprise, feel my eyes begin to prickle with tears. He’s right. Of course he’s right. Because that’s what he and I do. And of course our baby will grow in that same protection.

“As for missing me,” he continues, “I’m here now. And I would be happy to make up for lost time.” Then he kisses me, and kisses me again. And that night, after he takes me back home, we reconnect in our bed. After, we curl together, Peeta’s hand clasped on my stomach as we feel the baby’s movements.

After that, things aren’t quite so bad. Peeta makes a point of coming home earlier, and joins me when I go out for air. Marriage is trickier than either of us expected that first night together when he proposed. But slowly, we learn how to make it work.

Late one night, just after we’ve gone to bed, she comes. Peeta jumps up immediately to fetch my mother and Prim, then waits patiently outside for hours while they tend to me. The sun has already risen on the sounds of my screams when she finally leaves the safety of my body and enters the world at last. My mother cleans her while Prim cleans me, calming me, assuring me that I did well, that she’s safe and beautiful. And then my mother places the bundle in my arms, and Prim was right.

My daughter is beautiful.

I’m so wrapped up in her tiny blue eyes and the dark tufts of hair on her head that I barely register when Peeta comes running in. He stops just short of the bed, watching us, and that’s when I finally force myself to look away from my daughter and into the eyes of her flustered father, who stands panting as he looks on. And we both smile. No, grin is more like it. Peeta settles in beside me on our bed, and together we welcome our little girl into the world.

\---

The war is over, but that doesn’t change the fact that our world has changed forever. Each night, I welcome my husband home; join my Yankee in bed where we coo over the daughter that our union has given us. There are still times when our divided nation makes me afraid, and wonder how on earth we’re going to raise our child in a house uniting the South and the North alike. But Peeta says it will be all right. We have each other. And a house united within itself can withstand anything.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. So, we have finally reached the end of this story. 
> 
> First of all, I really want to give my most sincere THANK YOU to every single person who has stuck with this story through to the end. I know updates became sparse and scattered through out months of nothing, so if you kept reading even despite that, then seriously: thank you SO much. And thank you to everyone for all their support. This is the first bigger, multi-chapter story I've ever finished before, so this is a big deal for me. :)
> 
> I also want to apologize, because in all honesty, I had planned for there to be another five chapters to this story. But I realized as I finished chapter 15 that it really was time to end it. The lack of motivation that contributed to said delays in updates was the major sign. I think it ended in a good spot, though, and hopefully I wrapped up loose ends enough in this epilogue. I'll probably write oneshots here and there as well, as inspiration hits. But honestly? I kind of want to rewrite the story all together. If I were going to start this story today, I would have taken it in an entirely different direction than I started out with, and I of course, now I actually want to write out those ideas. :P
> 
> However, for now, I honestly intend to play exclusively in the canon universe. I'm going to shift focus to The Tigers Come at Night, and various other projects that are set in Panem, including my own 'grow together' type story I've been planning on for ages. So I hope you'll stick around, if you're interested!
> 
> Last but certainly not least, I want to give a huge, huge, MAJOR shout-out to my three faithful betas: feeding_geese, allies-person, and Chelzie. Your contributions, insight, feedback, and hard work are everything, and this story wouldn't be what it is without you. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you.
> 
> And thank you, again, to you the reader! I hope you enjoyed this!


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